The Ring
by Ms-Figg
Summary: Snape saves Hermione's life by giving her his ring. He also gives her something else unexpected. When Severus is presumed dead, Hermione fulfills his last wish. Alternate Universe, New History, Action, Adventure, Supernatural, OC Incest, MF, Lemons
1. Chapter 1

**The Ring Part 1**

The metallic scent of blood assailed Hermione's nostrils as she darted, from pillar to pillar, occasionally firing blasts back at her pursers. A large chunk of stone exploded from the column she'd just ducked away from, bits of shattered stone stinging her arms and legs as she ran. The cries and howls of fighting wizards filled the air, some suddenly silenced mid-scream. Hermione zipped into a cloud of smoke, tripped and stumbled over something soft. She caught herself on her hands and looked back to see her trainer was covered in blood. The gray mist cleared somewhat and she saw what she had fallen over, the upper torso of a dead deatheater, cut in half and lying in a pool of congealed blood. The bottom half was nowhere to be seen.

"She went this way!" she heard a rough voice cry out to her left. Desperately she pushed off the ground, running low, trying to lose the deatheaters in the swirling smoke and ash. She could hear the sounds of their feet closing in and fired a blast over her shoulder. She was rewarded with a scream and a thud.

"The blast came from over there!" shrieked a female voice. Hermione dodged just as a stream of blasts flew in her direction, passing harmlessly behind her. Suddenly she hit a solid wall, almost knocking herself senseless. The witch ran along the length of it, frantically running her hands along its surface, seeking a door, window anything. The region she was in now was clear, there was no smoke to hide her.

"Shit, I'm going to die," she thought as the shouts of deatheaters echoed behind her as they spotted their prey. Her heart pounding Hermione ran as fast as she could, hearing the deatheaters drawing closer, their footfalls right behind her. She was winded, her lungs burning. A pain ripped through her shoulder, blood flying as one of the hexes hit her and she cried out, gripping her arm…it was useless and her wand fell. She didn't have time to pick it up as she fled.

"Here, she's dropped her wand. No need to kill her from a distance now. We can have some fun," a male voice said, laughing cruelly. A round of agreeing shouts went up, and Hermione hoped she would come to the edge of a precipice, where she could fling herself off to an easy death, rather than fall into the hands of the dark wizards that pursued her.

She fled, her steps slowing. They were going to catch her. They were going to rape and torture her, and not be merciful enough to kill her outright but open her veins let her die slow as they tormented her. She knew what they did to young witches. Even moreso what they would do to a muggle-born witch. She stumbled forward and met a hard body.

"Come with me," a voice hissed, grabbing her hand and dragging her along. She looked up and saw that it was Snape. He was covered in blood, but it didn't appear to be his own. He had a wicked looking short sword in his other hand.

"Look, Snape's got her! He's helping her! Traitor! He's a traitor!" a male voice called out behind them. Blasts erupted all around the fleeing pair.

Snape sheathed his weapon, halted, turned and released Hermione's hand before thrusting both hands forward in the direction of the pursuing deatheaters. A powerful blast shot from his palms and for a moment she could see the silhouettes of five bodies encased in light. They screamed and writhed as the light hit them, then disintegrated, only their clothing remaining to fall to the ground. Snape grasped Hermione's hand again and took off running, his robes billowing as he dragged the witch behind him.

"Run!" he hissed at her, pulling her along. A shout went up to the right of them, and Snape halted just as a hex passed in front of them, and again he thrust out his palm in the direction the blast came from, and sent a great burst of power that melted the attacker away with a howling shriek.

Hermione had never seen such a display of power before. Not even Albus melted the enemy away, leaving nothing but their clothing. Professor Snape was a very powerful wizard, more powerful than she had ever imagined. They came to a tall pile of rubble and Snape flung her behind it, then himself. She fell, and Snape knelt next to her, feeling about in his pocket. He pulled his hand out and pushed something small and hard into her hand.

"Keep this with you at all times," he said softly. "It will protect you."

He then placed his hand on her wound and muttered something. The pain instantly vanished and she was able to move her arm again. She looked at him in wonder, and Snape's black eyes met hers. He looked frightening and dangerous, his face covered in streaks of blood. Suddenly Snape cupped her face and drew her to him, kissing her hard. Hermione was shocked, but quickly responded, feeling his tongue snake into her mouth and explore it hungrily before he pulled back, releasing her, his eyes hot. Hermione looked at him, trying to catch her breath. That had been one hell of a kiss.

"One of the things I've always wanted to do to you, Miss Granger," he said silkily, "Portis"

The object in her hand glowed blue. Hermione felt a tug at her navel, then she was pulled between space, blurred concentric circles of light washing over her as she was drawn through a pulsating void. It was freezing. Suddenly she stopped, space bending around her, then pulsing, forming a room full of wall-to-wall books. Disoriented, she staggered a bit. She looked down at her hand. In her palm was a silver ring formed of twisted serpents, mouths to tails. A large letter "S" carved from onyx graced it. Snape's ring. It was a port key. And this must be his study. He had sent her back to Hogwarts, to the safety of his rooms.

Hermione placed the ring on her finger, and felt it magically tighten to fit her. The Professor had saved her life. And from what he said to her, and the way he kissed her, it was plain he believed he was never coming back.

* * *

"Miss Granger, so good of you to come on such short notice. I only received the missive from Professor Snape's solicitor this morning. It is a letter concerning his last wishes. He left instructions that if he were not to return in six months, that we could rightfully assume he would never return at all. I'm afraid, as far as we know, Severus Snape is dead, killed at the Final Battle," Albus said, his eyes sad.

Hermione felt her heart plummet. She had been hoping beyond hope that the Professor would return. After their final parting, she had so many questions she needed answered. It was obvious that the wizard harbored feeling for her she had never known about. She would have liked to have explored the possibilities with him. She had known him since a child, and he had served as teacher and protector her entire time at Hogwarts, and when she returned to the staff as a Spells Mistress three years later, he surprisingly treated her with courtesy, and as an equal. His dismissive and derisive treatment of her younger years had all disappeared. She had never suspected he felt anything else for her. If she had known, she would probably have returned his interest. But now he was gone, and she would never know what could have been between them.

The ring on Hermione's finger seemed to pulse and grow warm. She looked down at it, and felt strangely comforted. She traced the small serpents. Snape left her something with which to remember him, and with his kiss, let her know that he felt something more for her than the respect of a fellow teacher. She looked up at Albus.

"What were his wishes, Albus?" she asked him.

Albus cocked his head and looked at her strangely.

It appears that he had a last request concerning you, Miss Granger. He would like you to deliver something to his ancestral home. Something rather precious and lay it to rest in his family vault.

"Me? Why me?" Hermione asked.

"According to his missive, only one pure of heart and purpose may deliver it. And there is another requirement…though I hesitate to ask about such a delicate personal matter. These times are much more…er…free than in my time, Miss Granger and you are now twenty-three, correct?" he asked her gently.

"Yes sir," Hermione replied, "but please Headmaster, tell me the other requirement."

Albus looked at her. "The deliverer of this item must be pure of body as well. A virgin."

Hermione blushed. She qualified. She just never had time for a relationship, with school and then her position at Hogwarts. And she had never found anyone who struck her fancy, besides the dark Potions Master. And he never knew of her interest. Well, at least she thought he didn't. Perhaps he had.

"Where is his ancestral home?" she asked the Headmaster.

"Well, that is the strange part of this, Miss Granger. He doesn't say. He only says that you have something in your possession that will lead you there. He doesn't identify what that is. Do you have anything that fits that description?" the Headmaster asked.

"I have his ring," Hermione said, holding her hand out to show the Headmaster. He examined it closely, then looked up at her, his brow furrowed.

"Where did you get this ring, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

"The Professor gave it to me at the Final Battle, the last time I saw him. He saved my life with it. It is a port key," she said, "He said to keep it with me."

She said nothing about how he said it would protect her. For some reason she didn't want the Headmaster or anyone else to know.

"It is much more than that, Miss Granger. This ring is many centuries years old, a Snape family heirloom said to contain powerful magic. It has not been off the hand of a Snape in over two thousand years. I am amazed he gave it to you as there are other Snapes to whom it could pass," the Headmaster said, frowning. "If they knew you had it, they would come to claim it, despite Severus' wishes that you have it. They are a dark group. Very dark. Severus would have nothing to do with them."

Hermione always assumed Professor Snape was alone in the world, without family. Knowing he had relatives was quite a revelation. But he had meant for her to have the ring, and she would keep it. Relatives notwithstanding.

"There is more about this, Miss Granger," Albus said. "You would be required to travel alone, and be wandless. You would in essence be traveling as a muggle."

Hermione considered this. She was muggle-born so would not be put out by such a requirement. She knew how to survive non-magically. A pureblood wizard would be lost as a kitten if placed in such a situation. Hermione thought about this. The Professor was certainly asking a lot of her. Why her? His relatives could probably take the item. But then again, he didn't deal with them. There was probably bad blood between them.

"Headmaster, if I took this journey, how would I survive? I have no idea how long it would take, and I don't have much money."

"The missive says that all you need will be provided for you. And as for money, that is no longer a problem for you. It seems the Potions Master has transferred his residuals to you, as well as given you his library and all his research on potions he was developing. Obviously he hoped you would continue his work at some time. You did minor in potions, did you not?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said in a small voice. This was unreal.

"His solicitor has set up an account into which the residuals are deposited monthly. You already have quite a bit of money. Enough that you do not have to work if you don't want to," Albus said, handing her a piece of parchment. Hermione read it. It was an account statement from Gringott's with her name on it. Her eyes went wide when she read the amount of galleons the account contained.

"All this in six months?" she breathed. Albus nodded. Hermione felt as if she would faint. Albus looked at her, alarmed.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

The room stopped spinning. Hermione looked at the Headmaster dazedly.

"I'm fine, sir," she said as her head cleared.

"Where is the item I would have to deliver?" she asked Albus.

"Apparently, somewhere in his private rooms. I imagine the ring would help you locate it, if you choose to fulfill the Potions Master's last wishes. It is quite a tall order. It would be understandable if you declined. After all, you have no idea where you are going, and you will be relatively defenseless without your magic. It seems a daunting task," he said softly, looking at her soberly over his half-moon glasses.

"I will have to think about it," Hermione said, her brow furrowed.

"Of course," Albus said. "Severus' private rooms have been attuned to your magical signature, Miss Granger. Since we hoped he would return, nothing in it has been touched. It remains as it was before he left us," Albus said. The old wizard's eyes glistened. He missed the Potions Master greatly.

"You can enter them at will," the Headmaster continued, "but preferably after class hours. Our substitute Potions Mistress utilizes the office then, and you must use it to access Severus' rooms."

"Yes sir," she said, "Is there anything else?"

"No, that is about it, Miss Granger," Albus said, duplicating the solicitor's parchment and handing her a copy. Then he started as if remembering something.

"Oh, there is one more thing, Miss Granger. It seems Severus has also left you his familiar. A raven. His name is Raucous."

Oh no. Not that bloody bird. Hermione wondered if Raucous knew he now belonged to her. He was a smart bird…if irritating. If he did, he probably laid an egg while having birdy conniptions. Hermione and the raven never got along. Whenever Hermione was in his presence and distracted, the bird would swoop at her and shit on her shoulder, then fly to the highest ceiling joist and caw in raucous birdy laughter. He had remarkable aim. Well, that little hobby would definitely stop. Now she could hex him. She grinned a bit wickedly.

She rose and said good-bye to the Headmaster and headed for her lab, looking over the missive thoughtfully.

* * *

In another part of the world, far from Hogwarts and Hermione's situation, a pale, dark-haired young man sat in a luxurious sitting room, his head bent to a lyre, plucking each string and tightening it. His black eyes closed in concentration as he listened, trying to find the perfect pitch of each note. Finally, he strummed it, and gave a slight smile of satisfaction. He sat up straight and began to play a beautiful, if melancholy tune.

As he played, a beautiful woman swept into the room gracefully, and walked behind the chair in which the young man was playing, her ebony eyes focused on his pale hands as they plucked the strings almost lovingly. She was tall, and willowy, with silken raven locks that fell to her hips. Her alabaster skin was flawless, her lips full and sensual. Her nose was slightly aquiline. She had the bearing of royalty. She was dressed in a black gown, her long fingers tapped the back of the chair idly as she listened to the last dying strains of the song. Silence fell. She clapped.

"Very nice, Vivaldi," she said as the young man turned in the chair to look up at her

"Sister, I didn't know you were standing there," he said, "You heard my new composition then?"

"Yes, and it is quite lovely, brother," she said, walking around the chair and running her finger over his cheek then under his chin slowly. The young wizard's eyes went abnormally hot at her touch.

"Thank you, Venoma," he breathed.

She kissed him lightly on the mouth, then walked over to the sofa and sat down, crossing her long legs.

Her brother looked at her, his black eyes sweeping over her form. He looked appreciative.

"Vivaldi, it's rumored that Severus is dead," she said.

"Our cousin?" the young wizard asked, interested.

"Yes. The one who was a teacher of some type at that wizarding school. How degrading to the name of Snape," she sneered. "Teaching peons and mudbloods."

Venoma shuddered with distaste.

"Do you think it's true, sister?" Vivaldi asked, idly caressing his lyre as he looked at her.

The witch looked consideringly. "I don't know, Vivaldi. No body has been found, and no attempt has been made to deliver what must be delivered.

"And what of the ring?" the wizard asked, his black eyes glittering, "where do you suppose that is? We should have it now, if he is dead. We are family, after all."

"You'd never know it by the way he treated us. No doubt that blackguard has placed it in another's care for safekeeping. But the delivery cannot be made without the ring. We must watch for strangers. Watch the tomb. Try to waylay them and claim what is rightfully ours before his or her mission is completed," she said, her eyes narrowed.

"But the ring…the ring may not…" he said nervously.

The witch turned dark, dangerous eyes on the wizard, who blanched.

"Don't worry about that, brother. The ring will not work at full power for anyone outside of the Snape family. Nor will it work for a wearer…that is dead," she replied.

* * *

There. Hermione was out of danger. The ring would watch over her until all this madness was over. And it had what Snape needed. He only hoped this would work. If not, his final act would still be worth the sacrifice.

Taking a deep breath, Snape dashed from behind the rubble, back through the screams, hexes, smoke and flame, running low, his short sword in hand. Potter would never find Voldemort in time. He was too well hidden. The death and violence erupting from the battle would swell the Dark Lord's power to epic proportions. He would be unstoppable, then it all would be truly over. The only one who had access to the Dark Lord's hiding place was a high-ranking deatheater. Him.

Snape swerved around and leaped over the many bodies and body parts that littered the grounds, and ran unhindered to the point where he could apparate into the Dark Lord's presence. There was no other way to end this. He stopped by a toppled statue, and disapparated.

* * *

Suddenly it was quiet. The screams, cries and blasts of battle were far from this place of respite.

"How goes the battle, Severus?" a high pitch voice addressed him from the center of the room. Snape bowed low.

"It is a terrible thing, my Lord. Bodies and blood. You can smell death in the air," Snape replied, approaching the Dark Lord's golden throne.

It was the only object in the large circular throne room. Voldemort sat upon the seat, his wand clutched in his scaly hand. The wizard was dressed in seamless golden robes, the Morsmordre symbol embroidered down the front, diamond trim on the sleeves. His red eyes locked to Snape and the lipless mouth turned up in a snake-like smile. His tongue flickered out.

"Excssssssselent!" he hissed, "I can feel my power growing, Severus. Soon I will make my appearance and slay all living. It's a shame about my deatheaters, but their sacrifice will ensure my victory."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said moving closer to the throne. "Sacrifice can insure victory, this is true. One man's sacrifice can save an entire world."

"But the sacrifice of many can conquer a world, Severus," said the Dark Lord, "Are you prepared to sacrifice your life for me?"

The Potions Master looked at the Dark Lord, his black eyes beginning to glitter.

"I am prepared to sacrifice my life if I must, my Lord, but not for you. To destroy you!" Snape said, charging the throne and hitting it and the wizard so hard, the great chair toppled, taking both wizards done with it.

"How dare you! How dare you touch me!" Voldemort screamed, rolling away from the Potions Master and leaping to his feet with surprising quickness. He pointed his wand at Snape.

"You'll die a traitor!" he screamed at the pale wizard.

"Maybe I won't die at all," Snape replied, apparating to the Dark Lord instantly and wrapping his arms around the wizard arms, and trapping them and his wand at his side. Snape almost vomited at the putrid scent of Voldemort. He smelled like death and decay, the things he fed upon for strength.

"You cannot hold me," Voldemort hissed, his tongue flickering across Snape's cheek. Voldemort began to radiate power. Snape crushed the wizard closer to him and began to chant an incantation.

"What…what are you doing! That incantation…it will destroy us! Both of us! Where did you learn that?" the Dark Lord screamed in horror, his power receding as Snape continued to chant, a golden glow forming around his body and spreading to the Dark Lord.

His black eyes locked to Voldemort's.

"You were right to fear me, my Lord. But for the wrong reasons. I never wanted to move up in ranks and become you. I wanted only your death. You underestimated me. My power. If you had stopped your little egocentric ravings to look around you, you would have found it strange I survived so many Cruciatus curses," Snape said softly, as the glow increased in brightness. The two wizards began to shudder, Snape never relinquishing his hold on the Dark Lord.

"I bided my time, Voldemort. Albus wanted to do things his way, and I let him. He wanted to follow the Prophecy, and I sat back and watched everything boil towards this conclusion. You would have won, Voldemort. I can't let that happen, even if I have to walk into that final darkness with you," Snape breathed, clinging to the wizard as the glow around them became a great consuming flame.

"Severus! Severus! Wait. Wait! I will share my kingdom with you! We will rule side by side!" Voldemort cried, trying to break free as the flames intensified.

"A kingdom of suffering? A monarchy of corpses? An empire of death? No, my Lord, I have no desire to be a king in the kind of world you would create. I would rather serve as your attendant, your conductor, your guide…"

The flames flared dangerously. Severus grimaced, then continued, his black eyes victorious.

"and escort you back to the Hell that spawned you!" Snape cried as the flame erupted, boiling over and turning them both to steaming ash, the flame extinguishing itself immediately.

Two small, flaky mounds sat piled on the floor in the exact positions occupied by the two wizards, one black, one gray. Voldemort and Snape were no more. Snape had made the ultimate sacrifice for the wizarding world's freedom, killing the Dark Lord and himself. And like the other services he'd selflessly rendered to protect a world that rejected him, no one would ever know.

Then a strange thing occurred. A slight stirring of magic rifled the still air. It whirled and grew in power. The pile of gray ash began to pile upon itself, forming a column, which then condensed, crushing itself into a short, thick, solid cylinder. A bright glow filled the throne room, then the pile of ash formerly known as Severus Snape, Potions Master…was gone.

* * *

Two days later, Hermione stood outside the Potions office. It was eight o'clock in the evening. She was staring at the door, torn. She had considered the last wishes of Professor Snape and the part he had hoped she would play in fulfilling them. It would be a great imposition on her, but then again, Snape had sacrificed so much for the wizarding world in his service to the Order. He never received a reward for spying on Voldemort all those years. Things would have been so much worse without the information he provided about the Dark Lord's planned activities. Snape had saved many lives.

No one knew what happened to the Dark Lord. Albus simply said that all signatures of his dark magic were gone, which suggested the Dark Lord was dead. But how he died was a great mystery. A number of books were available promoting different theories, but not one was a certainty. At least he was gone, however. Thank the gods for that.

Hermione stared at the door for a bit longer, then pulled out her wand.

"Alohamora," she said, and heard the door unlock. She turned the handle and pushed it open. She entered the Potions office. It seemed the substitution Potions Mistress had already begun making changes. Most of the horrible pickled creatures Snape had kept in jars on the shelving behind his desk, were gone. He wouldn't have liked that. Snape thought first impressions were important, and the backdrop of hideous dead things helped soften up students and visitors quite nicely as far as he was concerned. Most thought he used the creepy corpses in his potions and brews, but he didn't. He simply liked to let people think so. It made him appear even darker and wickeder. He really worked on that image. It helped keep the idiots away.

Hermione walked through the office to a wall and looked at its bareness. Her eyes fell on a torch that seemed to have a slight glow other than its flame. She pulled on it, noticing the glow faded the moment she did so and did not return. The glow must have been meant to attract her initial attention since the rooms were attuned to her. Now that she knew the torch was the way in, it wouldn't glow again. The wall slid back, then to the side, revealing Snape's study. She had been here before. The torches ignited immediately upon her entrance, as did the fireplace. It was so quiet and still here. Like a shrine or tomb. Hermione walked over to a wall of books and looked at some of the titles, gasping at the rarity of some of the tomes. They were all hers now. Her eyes glistened when she thought of the wizard's generosity to her. In the missive he said that she would probably be the only one who would not liquidate the library and sell its contents. He was right. The library was worth far more than money to the witch. She would have to ask Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian to help her catalogue them all, so she knew what she had.

Albus said the books could remain in the private rooms. She would spell them so they could not be removed without her express permission. Not even by the new occupant, which would probably be the current Potions Mistress, who was currently domiciled elsewhere. Hermione strolled through the study. There was a bottle of firewhiskey on the small table between two armchairs facing the fire. An empty glass sat next to it. Snape's final drink. Hermione picked the glass up and held it for a moment, knowing it was probably the last thing he touched before heading out to battle. Her eyes welled up, and she sat it down.

She walked into his bedroom. It was quite austere, having only a bed, a wardrobe, an end table, a dresser and a chair. The walls were bare. Snape never kept portraits anywhere in his rooms. He said they were spies for Albus. He was right too. That was the secret of the Headmaster's seeming omniscience. Tattling pictures. People had a tendency not to notice them and spoke freely in front of the portraits, which would then inform Albus of the latest happenings about the castle.

After Snape told her this, Hermione removed several portraits from her own rooms. Initially, she had left a painting she liked of a river, surrounded by a copse of trees, but one night out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight movement in the painting. She walked over to it, peering at it. There was another tiny motion in the copse of trees. She saw someone hiding behind an oak tree.

"Come out of there!" she said, "Or I swear I will cast a paint removing spell on this painting!"

A small painted wizard with curly brown hair and a large mustache stepped out of the forest, looking sheepish. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted something at her, but was too far away for Hermione to hear him. It was a landscape painting after all.

"You get out of this painting. If I catch you spying on me again, I will spot clean you," Hermione hissed at the image, which immediately took off running and disappeared past the edge of the scene. Hermione never felt comfortable with the painted scene again, and so took the painting down.

Hermione walked over to Snape's bed. The green and silver sheets were rumpled, and the pillow still held the indentation of the Professor's head. Hermione stared at the pillow, then climbed into the bed and lay on her back, resting her head in the depression. She lay there quietly in the bed, where the Professor had last lain, looking up at the ceiling, sadness in her amber eyes. Snape had been a great wizard, and, she suspected, a lonely one despite his snarkiness. She could have helped allay that loneliness, if only he had confided in her what he felt. She rolled over, her face pressing into the pillow. She could smell the faint scent of sandalwood.

There should be more to remember of Severus Snape than an indentation on a pillow, an empty glass and the faint smell of his favorite scent. He was a hero. He had not even received a memorial service. Not many people would have attended anyway. Hermione sat up in the bed and made her decision. She would fulfill Snape's last wishes. He deserved that much. Maybe it wouldn't be a difficult journey. The missive had said she would be provided for. She had not yet replaced her lost wand, and was getting by with one of the school wands that were provided for the less affluent students, those whose parents could barely afford tuition. So she was used to being wandless at this point. Traveling without magic would not be difficult for her.

Hermione rolled out of the bed, and smoothed the silk sheets with her hand before walking back into the study. She looked around. Albus had said that the thing she was to deliver to Snape's ancestral home was hidden someplace in his rooms, and that the ring would help her find it. She looked down at the ring. It sat there on her finger like any other piece of jewelry would. She held her hand up and examined the ring, turning her hand back and forth.

"Show me where the item is I need to take to the Professor's ancestral home," she intoned.

The ring sat on her finger and did nothing. Hermione tried again.

"Show me, O ring, your Master's secrets!" she said, thinking she hadn't sounded dramatic enough for the ring to respond. Still nothing. Hermione dropped her hand, scowling.

"Drat. I wish I would show me where the damn thing was," she griped. Suddenly the ring grew warm, very warm. Hermione looked at it. The "S" flashed a blue light slowly, then stopped. Hermione shook her hand to try and get it to light up again. Nothing happened.

Aggravated, she walked forward, and the ring flashed again, and began to blink very slowly. Hermione walked backward, and the blinking slowed. She cocked her head at it.

"What are you about?" she asked the ring, which of course did not answer her.

She walked forward again, and the blinking became a bit faster. Insight came to her. Holding her hand in front of her, she began to walk around the study. When the ring blinked faster, she continued in the direction she was going until it slowed again, then turned to another direction which made it blink faster.

"I see!" She said to the ring. "You blink faster when I am getting closer to what I am looking for!" She had discovered the secret. She followed the blinking ring until she came to the fireplace. It was blinking so fast, the light seemed a steady glow now. The item was in the fireplace somewhere. Hermione ran her hands over the stones slowly. Close to the bottom, her hand passed through a stone, and touched something small and cold. She felt around again, and felt a small bag with something hard inside. She drew out both items. The cold item was a small, black, seamless box, made of onyx, like the "S" on her ring. The other item was a small, black velvet bag with a gold drawstring and an "S" embroidered on it. The ring suddenly grew very warm on her finger, then cooled and ceased to glow. She had found what she needed.

Hermione walked over to Snape's small writing desk and set the box and bag down on top of it. She drew out the chair and sat. down, just looking at the items for a moment. Then she picked up the box and turned it over and over in her hands. She could find no way to open it. She looked at it closer and noticed the image of a serpent was etched into the surface of the box. When she shifted the box in the light, the serpent seemed to move, the coils undulating, and the eyes flashing up at her. Extraordinary!

"What are you?" Hermione whispered. "Are you what I am to take on my journey?"

Hermione started and almost dropped the box. It seemed to pulse in her hand at her question. She carefully put it down and picked up the velvet bag. She felt it gingerly. It felt like there were coins inside. She opened the bag and dumped the contents into her hand. A galleon and some sickles dropped out. She put the bag down on the desk, and looked at the money. It wasn't much. She picked up the bag and was about to put the coins back in it, when she heard clinking. She turned the bag over again, and three more galleons dropped out of it. Her mouth fell open. She shook the bag, making sure it was empty and put it back down on the desktop. After a moment she picked it up. There were more coins inside.

"Wow," she breathed, "A moneybag."

Moneybags were extremely rare. They provided the exact amount of coinage needed to make a purchase. Supposedly a moneybag was magically linked to a large hidden cache of money, and was connected in some way to Gringott's bank. Just why the money was provided was a mystery that only the goblins who ran the bank knew the answer to, and they weren't telling. How did Snape have one? Hermione looked at the bag. Well, now she knew how she would be provided for on her journey. With the moneybag she could pay for food, lodging and transportation without carrying a large sum. She would have to be careful with it, however. She couldn't let anyone know the source of her wealth.

Hermione gathered the box and bag together, and put them in her robes pocket. She started to exit Snape's private rooms. She would have to inform the Headmaster of her decision to fulfill Snape's last wishes, let her parents know she would be doing some traveling, and close down her labs. Just as she was about to leave the room, there was a loud, raucous caw from the rafters above her. She looked up and saw two points of light gleaming down at her. Suddenly, Raucous dropped down from the ceiling, landing neatly on the floor and looking up at her.

Birds don't have a great many facial expressions, but the raven tilted its head at her slowly, and seemed to radiate a distinct feeling of great sadness.

"Hello Raucous," Hermione said quietly. She and the bird did not get along, but she felt sympathy for the familiar. It had lost its Master and probably was grieving for him.

"I'm so sorry about the Professor, Raucous," she said to the bird, who let out a small, keening cry in response and fluttered its wings. "You belong to me now. That's what he wanted."

The bird ducked its head and fluttered its wings some more, as if to say it understood. It seemed resigned to its fate. Hermione looked at it.

"If you behave yourself, you'll find I'm not so bad. I won't work you too hard. You'll have a lot of freedom until I get back from my journey," she said. The bird looked up at her excitedly and began to hop about cawing. He made quite a racket.

"Raucous! What in the world is wrong with you?" she said. The bird hopped about wildly, then flew up and perched on her shoulder, preening her hair frantically. Hermione hunched her shoulder a bit. The bird was rather large and had a good grip on her shoulder with its clawed feet. It didn't hurt however. Raucous continued preening her hair, combing the strands from root to end. Hermione understood.

"You want to go with me?" she asked. Raucous let out a deafening caw. She turned her face toward the bird a bit. Having a familiar along to deliver inquiries might be a good idea. The missive said she would have to journey alone, but she was sure that meant human companions. She raised an eyebrow at the bird.

"All right, Raucous. I'll take you. But you'd better behave yourself or I'll turn you into a feather duster," Hermione said with a slight scowl.

The bird cawed, then clipped its beak at her. If ravens could smile, Raucous would be all teeth.

Hermione walked to the study exit, Raucous still clinging to her shoulder.

"You're coming with me now?" she asked the bird. It nodded. Raucous was really very bright. Hermione realized that the bird must have been lonely without the Potions Master, and needed company. He belonged to her now anyway. It made sense that he would now stay with her.

"All right, Raucous. I'll fix you up a perch in my room, and set the floo so you can come and go at will."

The raven cawed and preened her hair again. He did a very good job of removing snarls. Maybe he'd be useful in other ways as well. Familiar and witch left the Potions Master's room.

They had an adventure to prepare for.

* * *

As Hermione prepared for her journey, she was concerned with just how she was to get started. She had no idea where the Professor's ancestral home was, or what direction she should start in. Hopefully the ring would reveal this to her when she began.

Hermione was an experienced hiker and camper thanks to her father's love of the outdoors. She wasn't sure if she were going to always be where she could get a room for the night, or transportation so she prepared for her excursion with that in mind. She had a well-worn pair of comfortable walking shoes with ridged bottoms that should suit her well throughout the journey. Since she was traveling as a muggle, she figured she'd dress like one, and took only one set of robes. She had three pairs of loose fitting cotton pants and a couple of t-shirts, three long sleeved shirts, a change of socks, several knickers and two bras. These items were all charmed to be self-cleaning by Professor Flitwick, who blushed when he had to handle Hermione's unmentionables. She was not to use magic on the journey herself, but imagined charmed items would not count if they did not have to be invoked.

She also packed a rain poncho, a small pop-up tent for one that folded neatly into a tiny case, a small flashlight that could be shaken to generate light, a small lightweight sleeping bag, a muggle lighter, matches, a Swiss army knife her father gave her, a self-refilling water bottle, a couple of rolls of tissue and a warming stone. She packed some trail mix and jerky too. If she needed other supplies she could pick them up during her travels. Flitwick also gave her a translation charm to wear around her neck. It would make her able to understand and respond to foreign languages. She thanked him for that. She needed to be able to communicate.

Minerva McGonagal was extremely worried about Hermione taking this journey alone. She, Albus and Hermione stood in the Headmaster's office the day before Hermione was to set out to deliver the small black box to Severus' ancestral home. Minerva was in a right state.

"What was Severus thinking asking you to travel alone with some mysterious box and no magic to who knows where? Even from beyond the grave the man is insufferable!" she said, scowling at Hermione, who faced her with a determined look on her face.

"Minerva!" Albus said disapprovingly, "It's not nice to speak ill of the dead, my dear."

Professor McGonagal crossed her arms.

"Hmph. I'm not even sure he's dead, Albus. He could be somewhere lurking, waiting for Hermione to turn up and then…pow…he's got her. You know how he used to look at her when he thought no one was looking. I saw the lechery in his black eyes!" she said, her voice high.

Minerva's eyes started to glisten, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

Albus walked over and put his arm around the distraught witch. Minerva had liked Severus very much, but she was sick with worry at Hermione leaving on such a potential dangerous journey and was lashing out unthinkingly.

"Minerva," Hermione said, her mouth twitching at the Professor's comment, "A wizard being attracted to a twenty-three year old witch is not lechery. It's nature. And I highly doubt Professor Snape faked his own death simply to have at me. There are simpler methods. Kidnapping for example." Hermione smiled wickedly at the Transfiguration Professor. From the black look on Minerva's face, she didn't find Hermione's attempt at levity funny at all.

"This is close to kidnapping. Having you traveling out and about in the world all alone, with no one knowing where you are or what you are doing. Severus only made that request because you're a Gryffindor, and he knew you'd be moved to honor it. Bet he wouldn't have asked one of his Slytherins to take some magicless journey. They would have said no in the flick of a hippogriff's tail," Minerva said, stamping her foot.

Hermione frowned at the Professor.

"I am not doing this because I'm a Gryffindor or because I feel obligated. I am doing this because Professor Snape served the wizarding world selflessly, and gave his life for it. He was never thanked or honored for that. He obviously believed that I could fulfill his last wishes, and has entrusted me with something precious to lay to rest for him. It is the least I can do for a man who sacrificed himself for so many. Not only did he give his life, but he arranged for my life to be one where I can pursue anything I wish when we were nothing more than associates. It is a small thing he asked of me, and it wasn't even a condition of receiving his legacy. I could have said no and kept everything he left me just the same. No one has ever shown me such kindness, Professor, or been as selfless as Professor Snape. I want to honor his memory, and I will by fulfilling his last request, whether you approve or not."

Minerva just looked at Hermione for a moment. Then sighed and dropped her head.

"Of course, Hermione," she said, sounding chastened, "Severus was a good and selfless wizard. He did deserve more than what he received from all of us. I understand what you are doing and why…I just wish…" she began.

"I will be fine, Minerva," Hermione said walking up to the witch and embracing her. "And I'll be back in no time, I'm sure."

Minerva held on to Hermione as if she were the last child leaving the nest. Hermione had to gently remove the woman's arms from about her. She turned to Albus, who was looking at her soberly.

"Headmaster, I've closed up the labs, and will do the same to my rooms when I leave tomorrow morning. Is there anything else you want me to do?" she asked the tall wizard.

"Yes," he replied, "Be careful my child. Exercise caution with whomever you meet on this journey. Be slow to trust and quick to withdraw."

"Yes sir," Hermione said. She walked up to the tall, thin wizard, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. Then she walked to the floo.

"Goodbye Headmaster, Minerva," she said smiling, "I'm off."

She stepped through the floo. Minerva looked after her a moment, then turned to Albus.

"Do you think she'll be all right, Albus?" Minerva asked the Headmaster with a tremor in her voice.

Albus patted her on the shoulder reassuringly.

"I think she'll be just fine, Minerva. Remember, she is a muggle-born so can function without magic. She is also one of the most intelligent witches of the age. Severus would not have asked her to do this if he did not have full faith that she could accomplish it. And she has his ring. So don't worry. We will have her back before long," he said.

But his blue eyes were worried.

* * *

Early the next morning, Hermione had a light breakfast in her rooms with Raucous, who had his own plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. Hermione spoiled the raven, and he loved it. Severus had been a good master, but always too busy. Raucous was left to find his own food. Hermione fed him three times a day and sat and talked to him every night before she went to bed. The bird was quickly forming a fierce attachment to the witch. He would watch over her during this journey.

Hermione covered the furniture in her study with sheets, then checked to see if she left anything undone. No, she hadn't. She hoisted her backpack on her back. Flitwick had also charmed it to be lightweight, no matter how much she packed in it. Raucous flew over and landed on her shoulder. He tried to preen her hair, but it was drawn back in a ponytail and he only succeeded in pulling a strand out of the tie.

Hermione extinguished the torches, took one last look at the study and exited her rooms. She walked up the dungeon corridor, getting strange looks from the students, who were not used to seeing the Spells Mistress dressed in muggle clothing, wearing a backpack and carrying a raven on her shoulder. She walked into the main hall and exited out the main doors.

Hermione walked across the school grounds at a good clip. Hagrid was out and about and waved at her. She waved back at the half-giant. When she reached the main gates, she realized she didn't have a wand to drop the wards. But she pushed on the gate and it opened. Obviously the Headmaster had thought of this before she did. Hermione closed the gate and felt magic stir. She pushed it again, and it was locked and warded.

Hermione stood in the middle of the road, unsure of what do to or which direction to start out in. She looked down at the ring.

"I could use a little help here," she said to the piece of jewelry wrapped around her finger.

The ring just sat there on her hand, doing what rings do. Nothing. She sighed.

"What am I supposed to do?" she said out loud. Raucous cawed, trying to be helpful.

Suddenly she thought she heard someone speak. The voice was low, and rather silky.

_Portis._

A shudder ran through Hermione. That voice sounded familiar. Very familiar.

"Professor?" she said, looking around. There was no answer. But she was sure she clearly heard the word "Portis" whispered to her. She didn't imagine it. At least she didn't think she did

Hermione looked down at the ring. It had transported her once before.

"Portis," she said.

The ring glowed blue and suddenly the witch and Raucous were gone.

* * *

Snape stirred, awareness returning to him. His first reaction was puzzlement. Hadn't the incantation worked? How could he still be conscious? He should be dead.

He opened his eyes and looked on the personage of Voldemort. The wizard was floating in front of him, apparently unconscious. Snape looked around him. He was drifting in a dark space, speckled with lights reminiscent of stars. He felt weightless, and the silence around him was so thick, it was deafening. Was this death? He heard a groan and looked over at the Dark Lord.

The red eyes opened, and immediately narrowed when they fell on Snape. Then the wizard looked about him.

"Where are we? What is this place?" Voldemort demanded in his high-pitched voice. He struggled in place, but continued to drift. He had no purchase with which to move in any direction. He frowned at Snape and thrust out a scaly finger at him.

"You did this!" he cried, "You traitorous scum. You killed us!" the Dark Lord screamed at him.

"Yes. It seems I was successful, though I never imagined death would be like this," Snape said, looking around. Actually, it was very beautiful, very peaceful.

"We will be trapped here forever!" Voldemort hissed, his forked tongue flicking toward Snape.

The Potions Master looked at him. "Trapped for eternity with you. Yes, that's my idea of Hell," Snape replied.

Voldemort made a choking noise and desperately tried to grab Snape, whirling his arms as if attempting to swim towards him. The Potions Master smirked as the Dark Lord let out a string of obscenities at him.

"I'll kill you!" the Dark Lord spat.

"A little late for that, my Lord," Snape said. Voldemort fell silent, but glared at him hatefully

Both wizards floated gently in the strange void for what seemed like hours.

"Is this all there is?" Voldemort said, his voice cracking, "Endless drifting among the stars? There must be more. There must be a reward!"

Snape looked at him. "If I were you, my Lord, I wouldn't be hoping for any reward for the kind of life you lived. I'm sure you are on the 'naughty" list."

"Fuck you!" the Dark Lord spat, "I lived for glory!"

"You slaughtered and tortured thousands of innocents. Men, women…even children. There is no glory is that. If you had lived, you would have made the world one great ocean of blood," Snape said, his black eyes glittering.

"It would have been my great ocean of blood," Voldemort retorted, "And I would have swam in the agony of all who opposed me."

"That's exactly why you're here now. Your evil is taken from the world, Voldemort. It was well worth my life to remove you," Snape said.

"Yessss," Voldemort hissed, "but you have condemned yourself as well. You are with me."

Snape looked thoughtful. "I was already condemned, Voldemort, just by being in your service and providing the elixir that kept you alive until you began to feed on death and destruction. I enabled you to do your evil, even as I worked against you. I accept my fate. It is also my redemption."

Voldemort hissed at him. Suddenly there was a thunderous noise that appeared to come from everywhere at once.

"What is that?" Voldemort cried, terrified.

Snape didn't answer him. He looked around, then below them. He saw an orange light approaching. It was just a small dot, but was getting increasingly large. Voldemort saw where he was looking and looked down also.

"What is that!" he repeated, the fear in his voice making it even more high-pitched.

As the orange light drew closer, Snape could see that it was not a light at all, but a kind of funnel, made of churning, roaring fire. On either side of it were two small masses of flame also approaching. The two wizards were bathed in firelight as the mouth of the twisting, turning inferno drew closer. Then it stopped several hundred meters away. The two masses of fire continued toward the two wizards.

Voldemort was stiff with horror. Snape was resigned. Whatever was going to happen would happen. The two flaming masses stopped very close to Voldemort, and changed into two fiery beings made of flame. They looked like naked men encased in fire. Their eyes and mouths were simply darker flame. They looked at the two wizards.

"Aye, there they are," said one flame being to the other, who nodded. "We've come to get you. Got a nice hot place waiting. Seems you made the "naughty" list." The being grinned wickedly.

"NOOOO!" screamed Voldemort. The being looked at the other.

"I tell you, George, it's the ones that really deserve it that makes the most noise about it," he observed.

"Where are you taking us?" Snape asked calmly. The flame being looked at the wizard.

"Not 'us'. Just him," he said, nodding towards Voldemort, who was moving his mouth silently, his tongue lashing about in terror. "You was supposed to go, but you managed a 'save'. You ain't one of ours no more. Ought to be glad about that," the being said, latching on to Voldemort's arm. The Dark Lord screamed in agony.

"You think you're screaming now. I'm a low-temp. You've got folks waiting on you that makes the sun seem like an ice cube. Come on now. Gotta go."

The other being latched on to Voldemort, who screamed again. His robes were smoking and his red-eyes bulged out in pain.

"Severus! Severus help me!" Voldemort screamed as he struggled between the two beings who carried him to the churning mouth of the funnel.

Snape looked at the screaming wizard, his black eyes cold.

"You wanted reward, my Lord. It seems you have it," he said.

The two beings swung the wizard back and forth between them.

"One…two…threeeeee!" George said as they flung Voldemort into the fire. The wizard slid down until he was lost to view. Both beings dusted off their hands, and turned to Snape.

"The others ought to be along soon for you. So hang around a bit," George said laughingly. Then the tunnel began to recede, and the two beings flew alongside it. Snape watched them until they were mere specks, then they were gone. Silence fell again.

The Others?

Snape drifted in the black, starlit space for what seemed like months. His consciousness seemed to come and go. Then he heard something. It sounded like music. It began to fill the void. Sweet, tinkling sounds, like chimes in the wind. Snape stirred himself to full wakefulness and looked around. Above him, a white light was fast approaching. Two smaller specks flew alongside it. Snape figured these were the good guys, finally coming to collect him. A great funnel of light stopped a distance from him and the two beings of light flew toward him. Their eyes and mouths were also made of darker light. Both beings smiled at him.

"We've come for you. We would have been here sooner, but you were a late addition. Seems like you pulled a 'save'," the closest being said to the Potions Master.

"So I've been told," Snape replied dryly. "So where are you two taking me?"

"Oh, to your Just Rewards. A lovely place really. Full of light and love," the being replied.

Snape scowled a bit.

"Any dungeons there?" he asked. The beings looked at each other.

"No, but if you need one, it can be provided," the being said, looking rather puzzled.

"Thank the gods," Snape thought. The land of light and love sounded nauseating.

"Well, let's go," the being said, reaching for Snape. Then it stopped and looked at him. Then he reached for the Potions Master's arm again, then stopped.

"Hey. You're grounded. Can't take you," the being said. "You aren't properly dead yet. Sorry."

Snape let out a sigh of relief. It had worked.

"So what happens now?" Snape asked. The being shrugged.

"You just stay here until the situation rectifies itself. You did plan this, didn't you?"

Snape nodded. "Yes I did. I wasn't sure if it took though."

"Oh it took all right. You're just going to have to float here until something happens," the being said, withdrawing. Then it hesitated. "You'll have some entertainment at least. You'll be able to watch your loved ones that are still alive while you wait. It's something to do. It ought to start in a bit. See you."

Both beings and the tunnel of light receded very quickly. In a moment they were gone, and Snape was once again left alone, drifting. Hm. He'd be able to see his loved ones. Well, he didn't have any loved ones, so it would probably be a blank screen.

Suddenly the space in front of him grew cloudy, and a mist formed. Snape looked at it as static flew across its surface. Then he saw her. Hermione. She had a pack on her back and Raucous was sitting on her shoulder. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail. Snape looked at her pack and was able to see past the fabric, to the contents. He saw the onyx box wrapped in a piece of cloth.

"Yes! Good girl!" he said to the image of the witch pushing the main gates of Hogwarts open. She stood in the middle of the road.

_I could use some help here._

Snape started. Was that her voice? No, he hadn't heard it. It was more like he felt it. She was trying to get to his ancestral home and didn't know how to start. She needed to activate the ring as a port key.

"Activate the ring, Hermione. Say 'Portis,'" Snape said to the image.

Suddenly the witch and Raucous disappeared.

"Yes," Snape said, "I knew I chose well."

It wasn't lost on the Potions Master that the image showed Hermione Granger. His feelings must be stronger for the witch than he wanted to admit to himself. Yet, he couldn't deny it. His ability to see her was unmistakable evidence that Hermione Granger was indeed a Loved One.

* * *

Hermione gasped as she came to a stop. Raucous took to the air the minute he felt them hit solid ground. The raven had never traveled by port key and was completely thrown. The only flying he liked was the self-propelled type. He flew in great circles above Hermione's head, attempting to get his bearings again.

Hermione was aware of gulls crying and the crash of surf. The briny scent of the ocean surrounded her. She looked around. She stood a few meters from a white sand covered beach, standing in some tall, coarse grasses beyond rows of sand dunes. The surf crashed rhythmically on the shore, rolling and white-crested. She looked out across the water and saw a number of large, wicked rocks that stretched the entire expanse. There were people too. Fishermen it seemed. Gulls circled them as they appeared to fold a huge net. The weather was temperate, not too hot and not too cold. A few thin clouds drifted lazily through the azure sky. A breeze was coming off the ocean, and rifled the grasses.

Hermione turned and gasped. Behind her stood a huge mountain that rose up as high as the clouds. She could make out a large village at its base, made up of small simple houses and some fields. There seemed to be shops as well. She could make out small people walking about. She looked up at the huge mountain. It seemed strange, to have such level land and then the mountain jutting out of it. It kind of looked as if it had been dropped there from someplace else. The witch could make out varying densities of trees and brush speckling its slope. She looked back at the shore and saw Raucous sifting through the sand, hopping about. He picked something up, tilted his head to the sky and gulped it down. Merlin only knew what the bird was eating. But he looked delighted as he scratched in the sand.

"Hey, where'd you come from?" piped a young voice, "I've never seen you before."

Hermione turned to see a young boy of maybe seven, peering up at her, a scowl on his face. He had brown hair and brown eyes and wore a coarse gray tunic shirt and coarse brown trousers. His mouth was pursed as he looked Hermione over.

"No, you wouldn't have seen me before. I'm a visitor. My name is Hermione," the witch said, smiling down at her.

"Hermione?" the boy repeated, "That's a weird sounding name." He looked at her clothes. "Where'd you get your clothes? They are weird too."

Hermione looked down at herself and back at the precocious little boy.

"These are the kind of clothes we wear where I come from," she replied, "Can you tell me where I am?"

The boy looked up at her with narrowed eyes as if that was the silliest question in the world.

"Where are you? Why you're here of course," he answered her. Then Raucous returned, obviously having had his fill of whatever he was eating on the beach and landed neatly on Hermione's shoulder, cocking his head at the little boy with interest.

The boy's eyes went wide as he pointed at the raven.

"What kind of bird is that?" he asked staring at Raucous with such admiration, the bird began to preen himself, turning so the sun caught his glossy black feathers just right.

"He is a raven. His name is Raucous. He's my familiar," Hermione said.

"He's pretty," the boy replied. Raucous let out a caw of approval at the little boy's acuteness. "I'll trade you for him."

Raucous froze.

"Trade me for him?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes. I'll give you Runty for him. Runty's my pig. He's small now but he'll get bigger. Then you can eat him," the boy said, his brown eyes on Raucous.

Hermione gave a little shudder.

"As delicious as your pig sounds, I'm afraid I can't trade Raucous. He kind of belongs to himself. He just stays with me," Hermione said, looking at the bird on her shoulder.

Raucous cawed stiffly in agreement, casting a beady eye on the boy and clipping his beak at him. Trade him for a pig? How dare he suggest it?

The little boy looked crestfallen for a moment, but recovered nicely.

"Where are you going?" the boy asked, looking at her backpack.

"I'm delivering something for a friend," Hermione replied, "I'm going to his ancestral home."

The boy looked confused.

"The place where his family comes from," Hermione explained, "I think his home might be here"

"What is his name?" the boy asked.

"His name was Severus Snape," Hermione replied.

Suddenly the little boy went pale, and his eyes widened in fright. He began to back away from Hermione as if she had turned into some kind of monster.

"Wait!" Hermione said, walking forward and extending her hand as if to catch his arm.

The little boy bolted toward the village, his little legs flying. Then suddenly mid-stride, he disapparated. Hermione was shocked as the residual thunder sounded. A seven-year-old boy who could apparate? It was known to happen to children accidentally in England, but usually they had to be much older in order to do it properly. That's why you had to wait until you were seventeen to get a license. She looked around. Where was this place? And why had the boy run when she said the Professor's name? Suddenly, this journey was taking on darker connotations. Children tended to reflect the fears of their parents. This was not good.

Hermione looked at Raucous, who was staring at the place the boy disappeared from with his beak open, as if he too were amazed.

"I have the feeling the family name of Snape is not too popular around here, Raucous," she said. The raven cawed in agreement. Hermione looked toward the village.

"Well, I guess we'd better go to the village and at least find out where we are," she said, beginning to walk through the tall grass in the direction of the houses. Raucous took to the air again, flying before her.

* * *

The little boy ran gasping into the inn. He slid to a stop in front of a rather stout woman, with brown hair and brown eyes just like his. She was wiping off tables. She stopped and looked at the boy, who was panting.

"Peter! What have I told you about running in the inn?" she scolded.

"Mama, I'm sorry but there's a lady on the beach I've never seen before, with a black bird, who says she is here for the Snapes. Her name is Hermione and she said she is delivering something," he said in the quick voice children use when they are trying to get a comment past their parents. The woman straightened and her eyes narrowed.

"The Snapes? What did she look like?" Petra asked the boy.

"Her hair is like a light brown, and her eyes are kind of goldy," Peter said.

"Did she do magic?" his mother asked.

"I think so, mama. She just was there and the beach was empty before," Peter replied. "I didn't see where she came from, and she didn't make the noise either."

Petra put her hands on her hips for a moment. No noise meant the stranger hadn't apparated to their island. So some other magic was at work. Petra walked to the inn door and peered out down the main road toward the beach. She couldn't see anyone approaching.

"Well, more than likely she'll be stopping through here, Peter. We'll get to the bottom of this, don't you worry," she said, ruffling the frightened boy's hair reassuringly.

"But why would she want to go there? Nobody goes there," Peter said, holding his mother's dress between his small fingers for comfort.

"I don't know, Peter. Perhaps she doesn't know that," Petra said, "She's a stranger. She wouldn't know."

Peter turned his face up to his mother, his eyes shining.

"She seems nice, mama. We'll tell her, won't we? Tell her not to go…tell her there are things on the mountain? Bad people and things," he said to his mother. Peter had a kind heart, like most children do who are dearly loved.

Petra wasn't sure she wanted to get involved with a stranger. Especially one that had business with the Snapes. It could be dangerous to interfere. She looked down at her son.

"We'll have to wait and see, dearest," she said, pressing his head to her hip comfortingly. Then she turned and walked back into the inn. Freshly washed glasses sat on the counter of the bar. Petra wriggled her fingers at them and they neatly flew to their proper places. Then she noticed a stray glass on a far table.

"Clean that glass for me, Peter," she said to her son pointed to the table.

"Yes, mama," the boy said turning his eyes to the distant glass.

Peter wriggled his fingers in the direction of the table. The glass floated over to the bar and set itself in the soapy water. A brush scrubbed it out, then the spigot came on and rinsed it. A towel rose from under the counter, dried it and the glass floated to its proper place on the shelf.

"How's that, mama?" Peter asked, his little chest poked out at having done so many things with so few wriggles.

Petra patted his head. "Very good. Very good, Peter. Come now and have something to eat," she said, walking back to the kitchen. Peter followed her, his mind on the pretty stranger he met at the beach. He hoped she wouldn't go up the mountain.

She might not come back.

* * *

Hermione walked through the tall grasses until they fell away to lower brush and grasses, then a rough dirt road. She headed for the village, Raucous flying ahead, alighting on the ground now and then to pick up and/or swallow something interesting. The witch had to walk some distance before the dirt road turned to cobblestones and the first small houses were seen. People stood on porches watching her pass with suspicious, narrow-eyed curiosity. Hermione waved but no one returned her greeting, they just watched her pass silently and whispered among themselves about the strangely dressed stranger with the black bird.

They seemed like simple folk, dressed in coarse clothing for the most part, their yards neat and clean, animals penned in the back yards, and large gardens. Clothing hung on clotheslines, flapping in the breeze. Hermione walked in silence under their gaze, trudging toward the main part of the village. She stopped and took off her pack. She took out her water bottle and took a nice long drink. It was refreshingly cold, part of the charm. Raucous flapped up and Hermione poured some water in her cupped hand several times to allow him to drink as well. Then she returned the bottle to her pack, hoisted it on her back and took off walking again.

She came to the town. It had several shops. A fishing supply shop, a furniture shop, a kind of open food market, a fabric shop, a second hand store, a bank, and an inn were the ones she could identify. She couldn't read the language on the roughly painted signs so she figured her translation charm was in effect. She was very glad Professor Flitwick had thought to give it to her. The citizens of the town walked past her slowly, looking at her curiously, though no one approached her. Hermione looked about. Her amber eyes fell on the inn. That was as good a place to start as any. Innkeepers usually provided information to their guests. Hermione would get a room and hopefully glean some details about where she was.

She walked towards the inn, up the three short steps and through the door. She saw a bar and a room full of tables and chairs for the patrons. She smelled something wonderful that made her mouth water. There was also a counter with an open book lying on it. She walked up to it and peered down at the book. There was writing in it but she couldn't understand it. Most likely the book was a guest log. A metal triangle hung over the book, and a striker lay beside the tome. Hermione looked at the striker and the triangle for a moment, then picked up the striker and tapped the triangle. It rang rather loudly. It had to be magically amplified.

"I'm coming!" a voice called from the back of the inn.

Petra wiped her face with a cloth, then smoothed her brown hair and removed her apron. She took a deep breath, put on her innkeeper smile and walked from the kitchen to the front where Hermione stood by the counter.

"Good afternoon," Petra said, walking past Hermione and turning, then sliding behind the counter. "I am Petra, the innkeeper here."

Afternoon? It was just morning at Hogwarts little more than an hour ago. She must be in another time zone.

"Good afternoon, Petra. My name is Hermione," Hermione said, "I'd like a room please."

"Fine, Miss. How long will you be staying?" Petra asked, trying not to stare at Hermione. She didn't look like anyone from the island.

Hermione's brow wrinkled. She didn't know how long she would be…where ever she was.

"A week," she told Petra. The innkeeper smiled and pushed the book toward her. Hermione signed her name. The innkeeper squinted at her signature, perplexed.

"You're not from these parts," Petra said, her smile fading a little.

"No, I'm not," Hermione said.

Petra looked at her.

"That will be twenty Croupkas, in advance. Sorry but you are a stranger, so I must insist on full payment."

Croupkas? What the hell were Croupkas?

"You don't take galleons?" Hermione asked.

"What are galleons?" Petra asked, her brow furrowed as Hermione took off her pack and drew out her moneybag. She opened it and shook out the contents into her hand without looking at the coins, then held them out to Petra.

"These are galleons," Hermione said, thinking she would not be able to get a room after all.

"Hm. Around here, we call these Croupkas," Petra said, taking the money out of her hand. Hermione looked at the strange fluted coins the moneybag had provided. Amazing. Obviously the moneybag produced not only the right amount of coins, but also the right type. It could be the moneybag was set to this exchange because of the purpose it was to be used for. Whatever the reason for the right coinage, Hermione was intensely grateful.

Petra handed Hermione a great rusty key on a large ring. It had strange markings on it.

"You have room seven on the second floor," Petra said, looking at Hermione curiously.

"Thank you," Hermione said, looking at the markings with a furrowed brow. "Um, Petra, I don't read your language."

The innkeeper looked at her, her brown eyes narrowing a bit.

"How is it you can speak out language, yet not read it?" Petra asked her.

"I have a translator charm. It translates what I hear and what I say," Hermione replied.

By the look on Petra's face, Hermione could tell the woman didn't know what she was talking about. Hermione removed the necklace and set it down on the counter.

"Can you understand me?" she asked Petra.

The woman's eyes grew wide when Hermione spoke. She said something in a heavy accent that Hermione could not begin to understand. Hermione gestured for Petra to put the necklace on. The innkeeper looked at it for a moment, then dropped it on her neck.

"Now can you understand me?" Hermione asked her.

Petra looked startled. "Yes, yes I can. What a strange thing! It does magic! We have no things that do magic here on the island. Only we do magic."

Petra removed the necklace and handed it back to Hermione, who put it back on.

"Surely you have wands, don't you?" Hermione asked the innkeeper.

"Wands? What are wands?" Petra asked her. This stranger was strange. Magical items? She had never heard of such a thing.

Hermione fast understood she was far, far from home.

"A wand is a wooden stick that has a magical core, made of a dragon heartstring, a phoenix feather or some other magical item. It is used to make magic work. Focus it," she explained.

"No. We have no wands here. We do magic ourselves," she said. To show Hermione what she meant, she pointed to the closest table to them and wriggled her fingers. The table rose off the floor, turned over and settled back into place.

Hermione watched with her mouth open. The woman had said no spell. Or the witch rather.

"Amazing. Wandless magic." Hermione breathed.

"You cannot do this?" Petra asked her.

Hermione shook her head.

"Without a wand, I can't do any magic. There are some who can, but I'm not one of them," Hermione replied.

"May I see this wand?" Petra asked curious. A stick that did magic sounded fascinating.

"No. I don't have a wand with me. I am traveling without magic," Hermione replied.

Petra furrowed her brow at Hermione. She was going to see the Snapes and had no magic to protect herself? This sounded like a very foolish thing to the witch. She wanted to know more about the stranger. She seemed very nice, despite her oddness.

"Why don't I have Peter show you to your room, you can put your things away, and come down to have some fish stew and a cold drink. I can tell you about our island and our people," Petra said to the witch with a smile.

"That sounds wonderful," Hermione smiled back.

"Peter! Peter, come out here. You are needed!" Petra called to the back of the inn. The boy walked out rather shyly. Hermione recognized him immediately.

"So your name is Peter," Hermione said, smiling at him. "You left kind of quickly."

Peter looked at his mother, who shook her head slightly.

"I…I had to go," Peter said, looking at the ground, "I..I had chores to do."

Hermione knew the little boy wasn't telling the truth, but she would find out what was really going on from his mother. She was sure.

"That's all right. I'm glad to see you again. You can show me Runty," Hermione said smiling at the boy.

"Yes!" he agreed brightly. Hermione picked up her pack, and showed Peter her key.

"Can you take me to my room?" she asked him.

Peter looked at the key studiously.

"Yes. That is room number seven. Follow me…" he looked at his mother who raised an eyebrow. "Please," he added. His mother smiled at him.

"Such a gentleman," she grinned at him. He grinned back and walked to the stairwell, Hermione following. Just then something black streaked through the inn and landed on Hermione's shoulder. Petra let out a little shriek as she looked at the black raven.

"It's all right, mama, that's Raucous. The bird I told you about," Peter said, smiling up at the bird. Raucous cawed a greeting at the stout woman.

"He is very large. Does he bite?" Petra asked, not sure if she wanted Raucous staying at the inn.

Raucous was about to clip his beak at Petra nastily for effect when Hermione said "Raucous," in a tone that clearly said don't do it. So he fluttered his wings at the innkeeper politely.

"No. Raucous is very well behaved. He lives with me, and is housebroken," Hermione said. "He won't be any trouble."

Petra nodded.

"I'll go prepare you a bowl of fish stew," Petra said, "If you need anything, let me know"

"Thank you," Hermione said, following the strutting Peter up the stairs. He felt important taking their guest to her room. He had a responsibility. They walked down a hallway of doors until they came to a room with the same marking on the door that was on the key.

"Here it is, Hermione," Peter piped.

Hermione inserted the key, jiggled it, and the door opened. The room was dark.

"Where is the light switch, Peter?" Hermione asked.

"Light switch? What is that?" Peter asked, wriggling his fingers. Two hurricane-type lamps lit up the room. Hermione looked at him astonished.

"Did you learn to do that at magic school?" she asked him.

"Do what?" he asked her, walking into the room, followed by Hermione.

"Magic. Learned to turn on the lamps," she responded.

"That's silly. Why would I have to go to school for that. I go for writing and numbers, but not magic. I've always had magic. You can't learn it," he said, turning the lamps higher manually.

"Well, where I come from, we have magic too, but we have to be taught how to use it. We have to learn spells," she said, putting her backpack on the bed.

"Spells? What are they?" Peter asked, frowning a little.

"Words that make the magic work," she replied.

Peter laughed. "Magic doesn't work with words. It just works," he said.

"It's a little different where I come from," Hermione said.

"I think I like it better here," Peter said sagely, "sounds like too much work where you come from."

Hermione looked at him.

"It does, doesn't it?" she replied thoughtfully.

"Yes," Peter agreed.

Hermione looked around the room. It was rather small. It had a full sized bed, a closet, a dresser and a dressing table. There was a loo, a basin and a small shower. There were two windows that opened on to the street outside. It was fine for her needs. She drew the shades open on the window and the room brightened. She turned down the lamps.

"Be sure you close the shades at night," Peter said, his eyes wide.

"Why?" Hermione asked him. The boy looked uncomfortable. His mother said not to tell too much.

"It's just better if you do," Peter said, heading for the door. "I'll be downstairs with mama."

He left.

That was odd. Hermione looked out the window at the people walking in and out of shops. They all looked rather similar. Dark brown hair, ruddy complexions and brown eyes. Most were on the stock side. A good solidly built people, probably from years of hard work. This was plainly an agricultural society. She would have never imagined the Professor's family originating in a place like this. Her amber eyes traveled up the mountain. Unless…hm.

She looked at Raucous, who was perched on the other windowsill, looking down into the street.

"Come on, Raucous, let's find out about this place," she said to the bird, who flew over and landed on her shoulder. He cawed.

"Yes, you can have some of my stew," Hermione said, smiling. Raucous fluttered his wings and held on as Hermione headed back downstairs.

* * *

Across the street from the inn, a local wizard with a patch over one eye watched with interest as the stranger walked into Petra's establishment. His name was Ketri. He had lost his eye in a fishing accident, but his other eye was sharp as a hawk's. He missed very little.

His clothing was made of finer, softer fabric than most of the other citizens, though still cut the same. He could afford finer fabric. He had a generous employer.

Ketri had been told to watch for strangers, and had been doing so for the past three months, loitering around the village, and down by the beach day after day from morning till evening. His vigilance had finally paid off. Ketri looked around to make sure no one was watching him, then strolled over to the inn and stood just outside the door, listening to Petra talk to the woman. Hm. Her name was Hermione and she was a witch traveling without magic. That was a stupid thing if she was who he thought she was. The witch didn't say why she was here though. Still, she was a stranger. The Mistress would reward him for this information.

The man walked swiftly away from the inn and toward the mountain. He had news to share.

* * *

Venoma sat in the window seat staring out in the expanse of blue sullenly. There was no news of the ring, or the person Severus chose to travel to the tomb of the ancestors. Her black eyes drifted up to the thin clouds, then down to the mists. She hoped there would be word soon.

* * *

Ketri strode to the base of the mountain and eyed the spiral path. He had never attempted the journey, and it was well he didn't. He wouldn't have made it. He stared at the expanse of sky for a moment, then let out a sharp cry. He listened a moment, his one good eye searching the skyline again, before he let out another call. This time it was answered. A large shadow swooped past him, and he shuddered. Then he heard the great wings flapping as the great bird landed in front of him. The bird had copper feathers, a white crest, a wicked hooked beak, sharp curved talons and cold, golden eyes. Its wingspan was at least nine meters. The bird squawked at him. Ketri bowed to the creature.

"Tell Mistress a stranger has arrived. A woman, a witch from another place. She travels without magic and her name is Hermione. She is staying at Petra's inn," the wizard said as the bird twisted its head, absorbing the message. Ketri bowed again.

"Shall I wait?" Ketri asked the bird. It squawked sharply.

"Very well," Ketri said, walking over to a stone and settling down as the bird took off in a spiral, soaring towards the top of the mountain.

"I hope he doesn't take as long as last time," Ketri said, looking about him sharply, and starting when a small stone rolled down the mountain trail. "I hate this place."

* * *

Venoma was just about to leave her window seat when she spotted a small speck zooming toward her. She sat up straighter and opened the window, the cool mountain air rushing in. The speck grew larger and larger. She could see the great wings flapping.

"Ozmadias!" she exclaimed as her familiar landed on the windowsill, his great size filling it. The bird lowered its head, and Venoma reached out a thin pale hand and caressed the bird's white crest.

"I haven't seen you for weeks, my pet. I trust the hunting has been good?" she asked the bird, who clipped his vicious beak in a satisfactory manner and sent her an image of a fleeing unicorn foal, that screamed in terror as it was taken.

"Ah, very good hunting. I imagine Sewall is furious," she said a nasty grin flitting across her face. "He will be patrolling the mountain searching for intruders with his herd. This is good. None shall get past him."

The bird gave a small nod, his expressionless golden eyes glinting. It looked at Venoma and sent another image.

"Ketri!" Venoma exclaimed pleased. She received the one-eyed spy's message with glee.

"Yes. Yes," she said rising and walking to a wall and making a pass over it. A small vault appeared. She pulled it open and took out a small bag of coins. She brought it over to Ozmadias, who took it gently from her hand in his beak. She caressed him again.

"Take this to Ketri for his service, Ozmadias, and tell him to look to see if the stranger wears the family ring. If this is the one my cousin has sent, his ring will be on her finger," Venoma said. She sent her familiar an image of the ring to pass on to Ketri. "Tell him if she wears it, and he can get it from her, he will be greatly rewarded. I am not particular how he gets it," she added, her black eyes glittering with malice. "He can bring it with the finger for all I care."

Ozmadias made a sound that was reminiscent of laughter, hunching his feathered shoulders.

"Now go, my sweet pet, and deliver this to Ketri. Come back and I will give you a goat," Venoma said to the great bird, who squawked appreciatively, then fell back out the window, righted himself and spiraled downward toward the waiting Ketri.

* * *

Ketri sat on the stone, looking around uneasily and jumping at every sound. He heard Ozmadias' cry and breathed a sigh of relief. The bird had been quick this time. The great shadow passed over him, then the bird dropped to the ground heavily behind him, startling the wizard. Ketri saw the pouch, and his one eye glittered. Ozmadias placed it on the ground, then looked at the wizard with his cold eyes. Ketri stared back, receiving Venoma's message. He bowed to the bird and picked up the pouch. He opened it, poured the coins into his hands and smiled. He replaced them in the bag and tied it to his trousers securely.

"I will see if she wears the ring. If she does, I will take it, even if I have to strip it from her dead hand," the wizard said.

Ozmadias nodded his approval, then leapt into the air, flying strongly back to the top of the mountain and his waiting meal. Ketri patted the bag on his waist. It clinked and he smiled evilly. Venoma was generous. If he delivered that ring, most likely she would make him a very wealthy man.

* * *

Vivaldi walked into the setting room and saw Venoma sitting in the window seat, her silky black hair cascading down her back and pooling around her hips. His black eyes raked over her and he swallowed. His half-sister was so beautiful. Venoma was ten years his senior, their father, Adolfo Snape, taking a long break between producing children. Venoma had been a disappointment to him, he had wanted a son, an heir, and her mother disappeared mysteriously three years after Venoma's birth. The witch's womb had closed and she could produce no more children.

After several years alone, Adolfo procured a young cousin for marriage, who gave birth to Vivaldi. He had been a difficult birth, and when his father was given a choice whether to save the mother or the child, he chose the child. But Aldofo did not get to see his son reach adulthood. He was killed by a unicorn while hunting, the long horn driven through his heart and his body tossed from the mountainside. Vivaldi had been six years old.

Venoma had taken over the household, although everything went to Vivaldi, who adored her. She made sure the boy did, using her beauty and sexuality to keep him close. He was of marrying age now, but exhibited no interest in finding a wife. He lusted after Venoma greatly. And when she mentioned he must look for a wife, he would state plainly, "I love no one but you, Venoma" and she would kiss him on the lips, and caress his hair and tell him he was silly as she pressed her slim body against him, thus always giving him hope. It was a cruel game she played with the randy young wizard, but she had to keep her position secure. Yet, if she could get the ring, Vivaldi would be dispensable.

Venoma felt Vivaldi's eyes on her and smiled. She turned to him and beckoned him over. The wizard almost ran to her side. She embraced him close and kissed his mouth, her dark eyes meeting his before she released him. Vivaldi dropped to the window seat and took her hand, his eyes burning.

"Oh, my sister," he breathed, kissing it ardently.

"Dear brother," she replied, lifting her hand to his cheek and caressing it, "There is news. The wearer of the ring may be in the village. I have sent Ketri to acquire it, if it is so."

Vivaldi's eyes went wide.

"The ring!" he said excitedly, "Then the power will be mine, and I shall be recognized as the head of our family," the young wizard said. Venoma's eyes clouded at this statement, but she kept a frozen smile on her face.

"Yes, dear brother," she responded, "and you will not let the ring's power lie fallow like that fool Severus. He never used it. He had no desire for power."

Vivaldi looked at Venoma, his eyes liquid with longing.

"I will use the ring, sister. For you," he declared.

She caressed his face again.

"You are sweet, Vivaldi," she purred, "Now, go get your lyre and play me something beautiful."

"Yes, sister," Vivaldi replied, rising and exiting the room quickly.

Venoma watched him go, her eyes dark. She loved her half-brother, but she loved herself more.

The ring would be hers.

* * *

Hermione and Raucous walked down the steps and were waved over to a table by Petra, who had two bowls of steaming fish stew and fresh bread waiting for them. Hermione hurried over, took a seat and sniffed appreciatively. Petra eyed Raucous.

"This is your bowl, Raucous," she said. "It's mostly fish and vegetables."

Raucous fluttered from Hermione's shoulder and landed on Petra's. The witch froze up as Raucous preened her hair for a moment, then hopped down on the table and plucked a bit of fish out of the bowl. He gulped it down and looked up at Petra with a beady black eye.

"He likes it," Hermione said. Petra smiled. Hermione spooned up a bit of the stew and ate it. A look of bliss crossed her face.

"It's delicious, Petra," she said, spooning up some more.

The innkeeper drew up a chair and watched both her guests eat. Her eyes idly drifted to Hermione's hand, and the ring. She froze. She knew that ring. It was legend.

"Hermione, where did you get that ring?" the witch asked, her brown eyes wide.

"A friend gave it to me," she said.

"A Snape?" Petra asked her excitedly.

"Yes. He was a fellow teacher at Hogwarts," Hermione replied, "He's dead now, but left me his ring."

Petra looked Hermione over appraisingly. There must be something to this witch for the ring to be in her possessions. Only Snapes were to wear that ring. But she was definitely not a Snape.

"You aren't supposed to return it are you?" Petra asked, her brow furrowed.

"No," Hermione said, "I was told to keep it."

Petra breathed a sigh of relief. But if she were not going to the Snapes home to return the ring, why was she going?

"Petra, what is the name of this island?" Hermione asked her.

"Mu," Petra replied. "It's said that we are the last of the Lemurians, and this island is a remnant of Lemuria. It was destroyed many thousands of years ago."

"But I heard that Lemuria was a very technically advanced society. You are, if you beg my pardon, farmers and fisherman," Hermione said.

"Every society has its workers. Our ancestors did the labor, provided the food for Lemuria and exported to Atlantis as well. When Lemuria sank, it was the mostly the technical areas that the ocean swallowed, though much farmland was taken too. Many millions of lives were lost. For some reason this small portion remained and the people survived. But we are isolated, and prefer to be so. We live simple lives here and are satisfied."

"And the Snapes? Were they part of your community?" Hermione asked.

"No. They were supposed to be our overseers, but were more like our Masters. They oversaw production and shipping of the goods we produced. Our ancestors were little more than slaves and the Snapes ruled with an iron hand. They punished and killed many whenever we tried to assert ourselves and live freely."

Raucous finished his stew, and with a squawk of thanks, flew out of the door to go exploring. Petra continued.

"The Snapes always ruled over us from the mountaintop. Their magic was much greater than ours. They had powerful, violent magic whereas our magic is only helpful and task-related. But when the ring was taken from the island, their magical powers were diminished, and we were able to live our lives freely, without fear and without oppression."

"And your magic? It was always like this?" Hermione asked, finishing the last bit of stew and pushing the bowl aside.

"Yes, we are born with our magic. It is part of us and manifests when our children turn about three years old. Some have better powers than others, can do more. But we all have it," Petra said.

Hermione thought about it. They were an old race, and isolated. Their magical powers did not develop like those in the rest of the world. That the workers would not have destructive magic made sense, or they could overthrow the leaders. So, Professor Snape was descended from tyrants. Hermione smirked. That was completely believable.

"If you are not here to return the ring, Hermione, why are you here?" Petra asked. Peter had already told the witch Hermione was going to deliver something.

Hermione decided to be honest with Petra. Maybe the witch could help her in some way.

"The wizard who gave me this ring is dead. He died serving the greater good. We never found his body. He was a very brave man who was never honored for his service. His last request was that an item be returned to his ancestral home, the tomb of his ancestors. He asked me to do it, and I am fulfilling his last wish to honor him," Hermione said.

"A Snape serving the greater good?" Petra said disbelievingly. "Snapes only work toward their own ends."

"Not this one," Hermione said, "This Snape lived a very perilous and pain-filled life in order to protect others. He was a very selfless and courageous man." Hermione felt a tightening in her chest as she said this. Petra looked at the witch, and suspected she had felt more for this Snape than she was letting on.

"The ancestral tomb is on top of the mountain. And the protections the Snapes placed on it years ago, still function. It is impossible to travel to the top. There are creatures and traps that will prevent you. Your Snape has given you an impossible task. Better that you go home and bury what he has given you to place in the tomb," Petra said.

Hermione scowled.

"I don't believe the Professor would send me on a quest he didn't believe I could complete. There must be a way that I can do it. I have to try. I'm not even sure if I can leave here until I do," the witch said.

"How did you get here? The old magic of the Lemurians prevents visitors from apparating. Visitors had to come through a sentry gate. No one can just pop in," Petra said. "And it is almost impossible to come by sea because the water dashes ships upon the rocks surrounding the island. Those rocks are what's left of the continent."

"The ring brought me," Hermione said, "At first I thought it was a port key, but it can't be, because a port key only takes you between two places. There is some other power working here." She looked at the ring, which sat there doing the ring thing. Looking pretty.

Petra didn't know what a port key was, so she kept silent.

Hermione looked thoughtful.

"No one has ever tried to reach your island by broom?" Hermione asked Petra.

The stout witch dissolved into laughter.

"Brooms? Oh my no. How would they get here by brooms? Brooms don't fly," the witch said, gasping for breath.

"Where I'm from they do," Hermione replied smiling. Petra stopped laughing.

"What a wondrous place you must come from. Magical items and flying brooms. Amazing," Petra said.

"No more amazing than Mu. Where the people do wandless, spell-less magic, and children apparate without splinching," Hermione said.

"What is splinching?" Petra asked

"When you apparated and part of you is left behind," Hermione said.

Petra looked at her in disbelief.

"They die?" she asked.

"No, but someone has to go get the parts and put them back together," Hermione said, not exactly sure how it was done.

"A very strange world you come from indeed," Petra said.

The two witches sat talking for hours, with Petra getting up only when a customer came in for a bite to eat. She welcomed the man and escorted him to a table. He nodded at Hermione when he passed and sat down several tables away. Hermione thought he looked like a pirate with that patch over his eye.

* * *

Ketri looked at Hermione with interest, and nodded as he passed. He looked down at her hands. Yes! She wore the ring! He took a table at some distance from her and studied her as he waited for Petra to bring him some fish stew.

She did not look like the women of the island. Her hair was a bright, light brown where as everyone's hair, with the exception of the Snapes, was dark brown. Her eyes were very light also, almost gold. She was rather slim too, but curvy still. Ketri stroked his beard as he looked at her. She was different, and that made her attractive. Ketri liked attractive. Maybe the ring wasn't the only thing he'd take from her tonight.

Petra brought him his stew. He sniffed it appreciatively.

"No one makes fish stew like you do, Petra," Ketri said, smiling up at her.

Petra slapped him on the shoulder playfully.

"Ketri, you always try to charm me. Still full price," she said saucily, then turned and went to rejoin Hermione.

"Interesting looking wizard," Hermione commented when Petra sat down. "What happened to his eye?"

"Fishing accident. A hook got him," Petra said.

"The patch makes him look a little wicked," Hermione observed, looking at the man as he ate.

Petra grinned. "He is wicked. Ask any of the younger women on Mu."

Hermione smirked, then said "Petra, what can you tell me about the mountain?"

Petra looked at her thoughtfully. The witch was very brave but very foolish to want to make the journey. No one who tried ever came back.

"Well, all of what I know is legend except this, the mountain path spirals around the mountain and leads to the mansion on top where the Snapes live. They never come down. Deliveries are taken to the foot of the mountain and a large bird carries them to the top, then returns with payment." Petra said in a low voice.

"What about the protections?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know what they are, but it is said that the rocks and trees move, and there are creatures that roam the path to stop intruders. You are traveling without magic. How do you think to protect yourself? It would take almost two days to reach the top of the mountain unhindered. There is no telling how long it will take even if you can get by the protections. I wish you would think about this, Hermione," Petra said.

"I am thinking about it," Hermione said, looking at the ring. "The Professor said it would protect me," Hermione thought. Maybe the ring would help her past the protections.

"I'm thinking that I will start the journey tomorrow morning. The sooner I get started, the sooner I can get back home," she said.

Petra looked at the witch with sad eyes.

"I see you are a stubborn one," Petra said, "May the gods have mercy on you if you take this journey."

Hermione looked at the Lemurian.

"Maybe they will," she replied.

* * *

A/N: So, Hermione's on the island of Mu, remnant of Lemuria. Cool beans. Ketri isn't very savory is he? Likes what he sees. Snape descended from tyrants. Lol Yep, really believable. Some Snape coming up next chapter. Should be interesting. Please review. 


	2. Chapter 2

**The Ring Part 2**

Dusk was falling over the island. Hermione decided that she'd like to stretch her legs a bit and told Petra she was going to take a walk around the town. Petra told her fine but to be back within the hour, because she locked the inn down early. Hermione agreed, and stepped out into the graying evening. She didn't notice Ketri, leaning against a wall between two shops. Hermione started walking toward the mountain. The one-eyed wizard followed her.

Raucous had not yet returned. Hermione wasn't worried. The raven probably found something to amuse himself with. She exited the village and the cobblestone turned to a dirt road. The mountain loomed ahead, and the terrain began to change. Small outcrops of rocks and bushes dotted the area, growing denser as she approached the mountain's base. She stopped by a large stone and sat down on it, looking at the path that led up the mountain. This was where she would start tomorrow. It began to get darker, so Hermione decided to head back before Petra locked down for the night

Hermione had only taken a few steps when suddenly she was grabbed from behind, and felt the edge of something cold pressed hard to her throat.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you not to walk alone in the dark?" Ketri said against her ear, pressing his body against her tightly. He had one arm wrapped around the witch's torso, the other held a wickedly sharp dagger to her throat.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked in a trembling voice. She could feel the edge of the blade pressing against her neck. "I don't have any money on me."

Ketri laughed and licked Hermione's ear, causing the witch to shudder.

"Money? I have no need for money, pretty witch. You have something my employer wants…and something I want," he said, pressing his loins against Hermione suggestively.

"I don't have anything. Please let me go!" Hermione said, horrified. By the way this man was pressing against her, he was going to rape her, and maybe kill her. She had nothing with which to protect herself.

"You have the ring…and you have your virtue," Ketri hissed against her ear. "I want both." He ground his hips against her lewdly, and tears welled up in Hermione's eyes.

"Close your eyes. If you keep them closed, I may let you live after I am through with you," Ketri said, "If you look at me, I will beat you, then I will kill you."

Hermione closed her eyes tightly and felt the knife lower from her throat. Ketri turned her around to face him.

"First, pretty witch, your ring," he said, taking her hand and grasping the ring with his thumb and forefinger. Hermione felt a strange sensation around her finger as he touched the ring. Suddenly Ketri let out a curse and flung Hermione away from him, staggering back, his knife falling to the ground as he clutched his hand in agony.

"It…it…bit me!" he cried.

Hermione opened her eyes. She recognized Ketri as the man from the inn. Not waiting to see what happened to him, Hermione bolted back down the path, toward the village and soon put distance between her and Ketri.

The wizard staggered about, clutching his hand and cursing. The pain seemed to spread from his fingers, to his entire hand. It flowed up his arm over his shoulder and cascaded down his body. The one-eyed wizard began to writhe and scream in agony, falling to the ground. He had never felt such pain. He screamed even louder as his blood began to boil in his veins, his arms and legs buckling wildly, propelling his body across the rocky earth. He called on the gods for help, but they did not hear him. His chest was on fire and he clutched at it, rolling into a ball, his limbs twisting terribly, splintering and breaking through his flesh. He stopped screaming, and shuddered several times before falling still. He lay there a moment. There was a final heave and Ketri was dead.

Then his body began to tremble violently. A blue flame erupted from his mouth, nostrils and ears. It washed over the dead wizard's body in a great flare. And then, he was gone. Not even ash remained.

Hermione ran, and felt her ring grow very warm for a moment. Then it cooled. She ran up the steps and into the inn. Petra was behind the bar and looked up at the terrified witch. She came from behind the counter quickly.

"Hermione, what happened?" she asked the distraught witch. Hermione was gasping and couldn't answer her. Petra helped the witch to a nearby table and walked back behind the bar and poured a small shot of strong liquor into a glass and carried it back to the table.

"Drink this," she said, holding the glass to Hermione's lips. Hermione drank it down, then coughed as the harsh liquor burned its way down her throat. Petra patted her back gently. Hermione blinked back the tears that threatened to fall as her breathing began to ease. Her hands still shook.

"What happened Hermione?" Petri asked again, pulling a chair close to the trembling witch, and taking one of her hands in her own, trying to calm her.

"That man. The one who was in here today, eating. He attacked me by the mountain. He put a knife to my throat and said he wanted the ring. And me," Hermione said, her voice shaking.

"Ketri?" Petra said in disbelief.

"Yes. I saw him. It was the same man. He held a knife to my throat," Hermione said, lifting her head slightly. Petra could see a thin red line on the front of it. Something had happened to the witch…but Ketri? It seemed impossible. But then again, she had heard rumors that he made money in a wicked way. He was so nice, always flirting with her, that she didn't pay attention and waved the rumors off as idle gossip. Could he have attacked the witch? If he did, how did she get away?

"How did you escape him?" Petra asked Hermione. Hermione looked down at her ring.

"He pushed me away and yelled that the ring bit him. I ran," she replied, looking at the small snakes that made up the band. They still held each other mouth to tail. But she had felt a movement on her finger before Ketri touched the ring. Had the ring protected her?

Petra looked at the ring also. She knew it held great power. Maybe it had saved the witch.

"It is late now," Petra said soothingly to Hermione. "Tomorrow we shall tell the council what happened. They will take care of Ketri," the witch said, helping Hermione up. Just then Raucous soared into the inn and, on seeing Hermione looking distraught, landed on the table and cawed at her questioningly.

"I'm all right, Raucous. Just got in a bit of a tight spot," Hermione said to the bird weakly. Raucous didn't look like he believed her. He fluttered up the staircase and waited for Petra to walk the witch up, then hopped down the hall to their room and followed them in. Petra wriggled her fingers and turned up the lamps. She helped Hermione to the bed, then she walked over to the windows and lowered the shades. She turned to look at Hermione, who was already taking off her shoes and socks.

"You sleep now, Hermione," the witch said kindly, "Tomorrow we will report this to the council."

"I have to start my journey in the morning, Petra," she responded, pulling her shirt over her head.

"But they will need a statement from you about the attack," Petra said, putting her hands on her hips and frowning at Hermione. "If Ketri is a danger, they need to know."

Hermione looked down at the ring.

"I have a feeling Ketri isn't a danger to anyone anymore," Hermione said, her eyes hard.

Petra quailed a bit at the harsh look on the witch's face.

"Well, I will tell them then. They will find him and question him," Petra said, backing out of the room. "You get some sleep, dear."

The witch exited the room, closing the door behind her.

As she headed down the stairs, she wondered at the story Hermione told her. She said Ketri claimed the ring bit him. Maybe the witch had protection after all. She walked to the front door of the inn and closed it, locking it securely. It was time to turn in.

* * *

Snape had watched the attack on Hermione with a mixture of anger and horror. It was obvious his cousins knew about her, and had sent someone to take the ring. But it would not be easy to do. It was bound to Hermione and would destroy anyone who touched it with the intent of removing it without her permission. It had indeed bit Ketri.

Snape felt a cold rage in his belly at the wizard. He wanted to rape Hermione, the one-eyed bastard. Better that the ring got him. If Snape had been there, he would have castrated the wretch before running him through with his short sword. His nostrils flared. Suddenly his eyes widened as he watched Hermione undress. He knew he should avert his eyes and give the witch her privacy, but the lure of seeing her nude was just too much. He wasn't dead after all, and the throb he felt in his loins when she removed her bra and her full breasts came into view, proved he was very much alive.

The Potions Master watched as she removed her trousers and her knickers. He bit his lip as his dark eyes drank in her hips, buttocks and the small patch of chestnut hair. She was beautiful. He watched her climb into the bed and slide beneath the covers. She slept in the nude. He would have never imagined that. He always pictured her in a little granny gown for some reason. Well, she had dispelled that image.

Snape watched as she drifted off to sleep. He was about to will the image off when he saw a mist rising from the center of the witch's forehead. The mist filled the room, but also it passed through the cloud on which he watched Hermione, and filled the space he was in, enveloping him. What was this? He waved his hand through it, and it resisted him slightly. It continued to close over him, thickening. He found a purchase for his feet. He could walk. The mist thinned and cleared. Snape could move through it as if it were a place, another space. There wasn't much to see but he wandered through it for a while, glad to be on his feet instead of dangling endlessly. Suddenly he heard a voice. It sounded familiar and surprised.

"Professor?"

Snape spun around startled, and looked directly into the face of one Hermione Granger.

* * *

Snape felt his heart clutch.

"Hermione?" he asked, his black eyes fixed on the face of the witch with amazement

She blinked up at him and frowned a little.

"I know I must be dreaming, because you've never called me anything but Miss Granger since I've known you," she said.

"Yes, you are dreaming," Snape replied, wanting to see if he could touch her.

Hermione visibly relaxed then. She was dressed in her staff robes and had her wand in her hand. She looked around.

There certainly isn't much here," Hermione commented, looking at the empty gray space.

Snape considered her.

"Well, this is the stuff of your dreams, Hermione. Possibly if you imagine some other setting, it will appear," he said.

Hermione thought about the Professor's study. Suddenly the gray space pulsated, disorienting her, then she was in the study. A roaring fire was in the hearth. She looked around. The Professor wasn't there. Her face fell. She had so much she wanted to ask him.

Suddenly the wall slid up, and Snape walked through.

"Seems I was standing where the office appeared," he said, giving her a smirk. "But where are my pickled creatures? They're gone."

Hermione winced at having to tell him the new Potions Mistress removed them.

"Ah, so that's what happened to them," Snape commented. She looked at him. She hadn't said anything.

"I guess we don't need to actually talk. I saw an image of them being moved, probably from your mind," he said, walking closer to her. Hermione suddenly thought of his kiss, and Snape gave her a small grin.

"I see my kiss impressed you," he said in a low voice, his black eyes searching her face. It was so good to see her, to be close to her.

"Well, it startled me. You were the last person I ever expected to want to kiss me," she replied. Snape gave her a rather hot look for a dead wizard.

"As I said at the final battle, that was only one of the things I wanted to do to you," he said, his face sober for a moment. Then he offered her his arm.

"Come, let us sit and talk, Hermione," he said. The witch hesitated and took his arm, surprised that he felt solid and warm.

"I can feel you," she said, looking up at him.

The Professor found this quite interesting.

"Can you feel this?" he asked her, leaning down and kissing her lightly. Hermione's stomach did small loops at the contact.

"Yes," she breathed, "I definitely felt that," she said.

The Professor gave a wry grin and walked her over to the armchairs in front of the fire, and helped her into a chair, before taking the other one. He looked at her.

"You must have a lot of questions for me," he stated, his eyes sweeping over her, and remembering his little peep show. He felt a tightening in his loins. Yes, he was definitely still with the living as far as the witch was concerned.

"Yes, I do," Hermione said. She felt braver than she normally would. This was a dream after all and she could be candid with him.

"Professor, I get the distinct impression that you were interested in me beyond the interest of one associate in another," she said.

"Yes, Hermione. I was and am very attracted to you. I have been since your seventh year," Snape admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything? I mean, I understand when I was a student why you wouldn't, but once I returned to Hogwarts as a staff member, you could have said something then," she said.

Snape looked at her.

"Would you have returned my interest if I had, Hermione? As dark and ill-tempered as I am?" he asked her.

Hermione considered.

"You weren't dark or ill-tempered with me, Professor. I was quite shocked at the respect you showed me when I returned to Hogwarts. I was sure you'd be dismissive of me," Hermione stated, her amber eyes meeting his.

"You worked very hard to earn your degree, Hermione. Actually you worked hard from the first day you entered Hogwarts as a bushy-haired little know-it-all. I've always respected your mind, if not your choice of friends. They put you in more danger than necessary. I was rather surprised you made it to graduation. Your determination and brilliance got you the position on the Hogwarts staff. You deserved to be there. I had no problem accepting you. I was no longer your teacher, so I was no longer obligated to keep you on your toes," Snape said with a slight smirk.

"So why didn't you say anything?" she asked him.

"I was still in the service of the Dark Lord. To show an interest in you then would have placed you in great danger. I would never willingly place you in danger, Hermione," he said.

Hermione looked at him. She certainly was up to her neck in danger right now.

"I don't know if that's completely so, Professor. Fulfilling your last request is shaping up to be pretty dangerous. I was almost robbed and raped tonight. The man wanted your ring, as well as my virtue," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"But he did neither, did he?" the Professor responded, "The ring protected you. It will always protect you, until…"

"Until what, Professor," she asked. There was a condition on the ring's protection?

"Until you complete my last request. Then you will no longer require it to protect you," he said obtusely. "It will no longer be necessary."

"Why?" she asked.

Snape hesitated. "I hesitate to tell you that at this point, Hermione. Suffice it to say that it will help you reach the ancestral tomb. It will also assist you in completing the task of returning the box. Trust me," Snape said, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

Hermione looked at him.

"Why did you ask me to travel without magic, Professor? I have no way to protect myself," Hermione said frowning at him. "I'm in a strange land full of strange people, heading for a strange place, and I am defenseless when everyone around me has magic," she said.

"You have nothing to fear from the citizens of Mu, with the exception of my cousins, who will want the ring from you. I requested you not travel with your wand because magic triggers many of the protections on the mountain. They were made to stop the citizens from reaching Snape Manor and attacking it. Since they are inherently magical, the protections immediately attacked them. In your case, though you are inherently magical also, you require a wand and spells to activate your power. You do not radiate it as the Lemurians do. Most of the protections will not react to you. The ones that do, the ring will help you past them. That is why I asked you not to travel with magic. Your charms are inanimate, they will not trigger the protections either." Snape explained.

All right. That made sense. Now she was curious about his ancestry.

"Were you born on Mu, Professor?" she asked.

"No, Hermione. My part of the family left Mu many generations ago. My people were of the ruling caste, much different than the workers both in appearance and power. When the continent sank, my family began to fight among themselves, primarily over the ring. Battles and feuds ensued, with immediate families occupying different parts of the Manor, which is huge. There were poisonings, stabbings and all type of murder and injury between them. Finally my grandfather many times removed, secured the ring and using its power, took his family from Mu. The rest of the family could not follow him. The restrictions on Mu still retain their power and no one can just leave and enter. It is said the family originally settled in the Mediterranean, then migrated to other parts of the world from there. I was born and raised in England, just as you were. However, I was the first of our generation in hundreds of years to be born with full ancestral powers, the powers of the overseers."

Hermione drew in a deep breath. That was why he was able to destroy the deatheaters the way he did. He had the full power of the Lemurians running through his veins. The Professor continued.

"I was quickly schooled not to reveal them, as the wizards and witches here had no abilities as I did. My father taught me control and discipline over them so they would not manifest when I became angry or excited. Since I was still a wizard, I received my letter from Hogwarts and attended the school, learning the magical techniques and spells practiced here. The combination of spells and incantations made me even more powerful. I was hell-bent to conceal them, especially with the Marauders constantly harassing me. Harry was lucky he was ever born. I was tempted several times to blast his father to bits. Only my discipline saved him."

Snape grimaced at the memory. Potter had been a real thorn in his arse. He shook it off and continued to speak, wanting to satisfy the witch's curiosity about him completely. He had never told anyone his history before. Yet, he felt it important that she know as much as possible about him. He continued.

"I was very interested in Potions rather than wand-waving, simply because of my nature, and so that was the course of study I chose. My parents died when I was in my fourth year, and the ring was passed on to me. My father had never used its power, so neither did I. There was no reason. I was powerful enough without it. After my parents' death, Albus tried to take me under his wing. But he was a Gryffindor, and I was a Slytherin. I didn't appreciate his kindness and joined the Dark Lord. When I sought to break away from Voldemort, Albus enlisted me as a spy and gave me the position of Potions Master. You know the rest."

He fell silent.

Hermione stared at the Professor, fascinated. So much rich history behind the wizard. He had been even more powerful than Albus, and maybe Voldemort. She wondered how he died.

"Professor, how did you die?" she asked him.

He looked at her, his black eyes going liquid. A quiet fire burned behind them.

"Killing Voldemort," he replied, "I had to die with him in order to remove him from the wizarding world."

Hermione gasped. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for all of them. And no one knew but her. Yet, this was only a dream. She could be imagining all of it. But it just seemed too detailed, and the Professor seemed too real.

"Professor, are you a figment of my imagination?" she asked him.

Snape looked at her. Should he reveal his status to her? If he did so, then that would be tantamount to revealing her entire purpose. No, he would have to keep the secret for now. He stood up and took her hands and drew her up to him.

"Do I feel like a figment, Hermione?" he asked her softly.

"No," she whispered, the warmth of his hands seeming to run up her arms and wash over her body. She swayed a little.

Snape studied the witch, then asked the question that had been left unanswered.

"Hermione, if I had told you of my interest in, my desire for you, would you have accepted me?' the Potions Master asked, his eyes fixed on her face.

This was a dream. Hermione could be honest in a dream. It wasn't as if this was the wizard himself. He was gone, beyond her.

"Professor, I was always attracted to you. Intellectually and physically. You were dark, dangerous, courageous and incredibly sexy. I am certain I would have accepted you, if you had only told me how you felt," she replied, blushing at her own forwardness.

Snape wished he had known how the witch had felt about him. But no matter, he knew now.

"So," he said, "If I were alive, and had told you my feelings…do you think we would have become lovers? Would be lovers now?" His pale fingers caressed the back of her hands as he asked her this question.

Hermione flushed, her whole body turning crimson.

"I think there was a good chance you would have been the one to deflower me, Professor," she said, her heart pounding as she looked into his face, and saw the desire there. Why did this have to be a dream?

The Professor felt a powerful pulse of lust wash over him at the witch's answer. This was a dream, but they could feel each other. For a moment he thought of seducing her. Even dream-sex would probably be quite satisfying. But, since he was not actually dead, if he deflowered her even in a dream, would that alter her virgin status? She was going to need that on her journey. He sighed mentally. He couldn't take the chance.

Hermione watched as a number of emotions passed over the face of the Professor, all of them making her belly feel full of lacewings. This was a dream. She could do things with the Professor that she would never have dared do in the real world. She looked up at him.

"Professor, would you kiss me again?" Hermione asked him.

He lifted an eyebrow. She was asking him to kiss her. Obviously she was attracted to him.

"Certainly, Hermione," he replied silkily. He pulled her into his arms gently, and lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers. They were warm, soft and willing. Snape felt himself swelling as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and by Hermione's gasp, she felt it too. But she didn't draw away, on the contrary, she pressed into him.

The Professor ravaged the witch's mouth, exploring every part of it hungrily. Without knowing it, he began to move against her, rubbing his body against hers sensually, suggestively. Hermione began to pant against his mouth, and her arms drew him tighter to her as she moved against him as well. The Professor's hands slipped down her back, caressing it, before sliding over the swell of her buttocks. She made a little moan as he gripped her and pulled her against him, walking her back to the wall just on the side of the fireplace. Excited, his mouth slipped from her lips to her throat. He could taste her flesh. This was too real. The Professor was quickly losing himself and tried to draw back.

"Hermione, we need to stop," he growled down at her. But her amber eyes were alight with desire.

"Why?" Hermione breathed, pulling him back against her body, "This is just a dream, Professor. We can do what we want and it won't hurt anything. My virtue will remain intact in my waking state."

Snape wasn't sure about that. He allowed himself one more searing kiss and pulled away from the witch with effort. Hermione scowled at him, all heated up and wanting more.

"If you were prudish like this in life," Hermione said angrily, "then we probably wouldn't be lovers after all."

Snape's eyes flashed and he caught her wrist rather painfully. Hermione gasped as he leaned his face toward her's. It was contorted with powerful emotion.

"I assure you, Hermione. I am no prude. I could do things to you that would make you get religion," he seethed, "but…now is not the right time." He released her.

Hermione rubbed her wrist. Dream or not, that hurt. Still she wondered what he could possibly do to her that would make an agnostic like her, actually worship something.

"What do you mean, it's not the right time. It's a dream, damn it! Time doesn't matter here," she stated. The Potions Master looked at her, then sighed.

"It matters in your world, Hermione. You must fulfill my last request. And then perhaps, if you are still willing…we might finish…this," he said, his black eyes glittering at her. It was quite clear he'd like nothing better to indulge her desire.

Hermione was about to say something when the room and the Professor began to fade.

"No! Not yet! I don't want to wake up yet!" she cried reaching for the Professor, but her arms passed right through him. He looked at her, a small smirk on his face.

"You'll see me again, Hermione," he said, his voice sounding hollow and distant now.

"When?" she cried after him as he faded out. His voice floated back to her.

"In your dreams," he replied.

Hermione woke up gasping in her bed, startling Raucous who was perched on her headboard, his head tucked under his wing. He looked at her and cawed, concern in his beady black eyes as he blinked at her. Hermione twisted her head to look at the raven.

"I'm sorry, Raucous. I just had a dream about your former master," she said, "It was so realistic. It almost turned into a wet dream."

Raucous made a noise when she said this. Hermione wasn't sure if it was meant to be laughter or disgust. She snuggled back under the covers, hoping to dream about the Potions Master again, and maybe finish what she started.

Snape was again drifting among the stars and looking at the witch trying to return to the dream. He watched as she fell asleep, but no mist arose as her breath rose and fell. She was in a dreamless sleep this time. Snape was relieved. She had been quite seductive overall. He doubted he could have resisted her a second time, not after coming so close.

He looked at the witch, and felt his chest constrict. She wanted him. Even though she thought he was dead. Well, if she successfully completed this journey, Hermione would get what she wanted, and then some.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. Raucous was bright-eyed and spread-tailed and cawed a loud greeting at the witch, hopping down on the bed and immediately beginning to preen her tangled hair. He caught a snag and Hermione let out a little shriek and waved him away. The raven fluttered back up to the headboard, but didn't look nearly as penitent as he should. He then hopped on to the windowsill and let out another caw, presumably to go out. Hermione rolled out the bed and raised both shades, then opened one of the windows. Raucous took off.

"Be sure to be back here soon, Raucous!" she called after him, "we have to hit the mountain this morning." A caw answered her. Hermione closed the window. Raucous could enter the inn through the front door on his return.

Hermione stretched, yawned and scratched, then headed for the small shower. This might be the last good wash she'd have in days, so she scrubbed up good, getting all the nooks and crannies. Her mind turned to the Professor as her hands moved over her body, and she slowed down a bit at the thought of the dream wizard kissing and pressing against her. She felt a small tingling between her legs, and worked to relieve it. She did, with a gasp.

A gasp that was almost matched to the moment by the voyeur Snape, who once again found himself watching her through the mist image. Just watching the water run between the cleft of her breasts, and over her thighs was almost overwhelming. The Potions Master had never expected to see the chaste Gryffindor witch masturbate. There were distinct advantages to being in a half-life state. But as Snape watched Hermione dry her delicious body, he dearly wished he were in the flesh, if only for a few moments. He hoped that she would get up the mountain quickly, and that his cousins would be caught unaware, since their spy was undoubtedly dead. The quicker she got there, the quicker he could leave this place and return to her. What a heated return that would be. As far as Snape was concerned, Hermione had already accepted him as a lover, and his first act, other than returning them to England, would be to consummate their relationship as quickly as possible. He had waited years.

Snape watched as Hermione dressed in layers. Very wise, the mountain could be cold at night. The weather was always temperate during the day, and there were no true winters in Mu, the climate control of the original continent still active and in place. It stayed at a relatively steady rate of twenty-one degrees Celsius during the day, but lowering slightly during the winter months. Whether the coldness of the mountain nights was a part of the protection, no one knew.

Hermione hoisted her pack onto her back and exited her room, locking the door. She would leave the key with Petra. She planned to have a hearty breakfast and set out on her way. She walked down the hallway and turned down the stairs. When she reached the main floor she noticed Petra behind the bar talking to three gray-haired gentlemen in hushed tones who were sitting on stools and drinking some steaming liquid out of cups. It didn't smell like coffee. It had more of a woody aroma. Not unpleasant though.

Petra saw Hermione and said something to the men, who turned to look at her. They were older, rather dignified looking gentlemen. The fabric of their tunics and trousers were very fine. They nodded soberly at Hermione, who removed her pack and set it on the floor by the stairs and walked over to them. Petra came from behind the bar, and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Good morning, Hermione. These are three elders from our village council. I sent Peter for them this morning with a note telling what you said happened to you last night with Ketri. He was looked for by his home, but he was not there and no one has seen him this morning, which is unusual, because he is always out and about from morning until evening," Petra said, looking sober.

Hermione nodded at the three elders, and they nodded back, their brown eyes taking in her features and strange clothing. All three sets of eyes dropped to the ring and widened.

"You spoke the truth, Petra," one of the elders said. He held out his hand to Hermione.

"May I examine your ring?" he asked her. Hermione placed her hand in his, and the elder placed his face very close to her hand, studying the ring, turning her hand over to inspect the band. After a few moments, he released her hand and stared at her.

"This was given you by a Snape?" he asked her, his bushy gray brows drawn together.

"Yes sir," Hermione answered.

"And you go up the mountain today?" he asked her, looking over at her pack.

"Yes sir, right after I eat," Hermione responded.

Petra excused herself and rushed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the witch, leaving her alone with the elders.

Another elder spoke.

"You have been given a great power. Obviously you have a great quest to fulfill as well," the elder said, "But we feel it our duty to tell you that no one who has ever started on that mountain path has ever returned. Whether they died or were taken into the Manor, we do not know. We advise you not to take this journey," he said, looking at Hermione with a small scowl.

"I have been duly warned, sir. Twice." Hermione said, remembering Petra also asking her not to go.

"There is a reason we ask that you do not go. The ring. It would be bad indeed if the Snapes regained it," another elder said.

"They will not take it. It belongs to me," Hermione said, a rather stubborn look on her face.

"It has long been rumored that Ketri worked for the Snapes as a spy, and an assassin on occasion, though we have no proof of that. This was our first lead to possibly proving Ketri a danger to our citizens. But we cannot find him. We think we never will," the elder said, looking at the ring again. "But if he were indeed after your ring, then it is safe to say the Snapes are aware of your presence on Mu, and you are in grave danger. Again we ask that you not take this journey," the second elder said.

Hermione looked at all three wizards.

"I am afraid I must do this. It is the last wish of a very great wizard. Not to do so would dishonor his memory. I hope you will not try to hinder me," Hermione said, looking from one to the other.

"No, we would not. That is not our way," the third elder sighed.

Petra came out of the back of the inn, carrying a plate of food and a steaming mug. Hermione looked over at her. The witch's stomach growled audibly. The three wizards looked at her and waved her on.

"Go and eat your meal. We will pray to the gods for your success," the first elder said. The three wizards left the inn as Hermione made her way over to the table and sat down. As if on cue, Raucous soared through the open door and alighted on the table next to Hermione's plate, eyeing her food hungrily. Hermione looked at her plate. There were eggs, what appeared to be ham, and a large piece of the crusty bread she had yesterday. It smelled delicious.

"Thank you, Petra," Hermione said.

Petra gave her a slight smile.

"I have packed some dried meat and bread for your journey," she said, producing a small bag from her apron pocket and placing it on the table. "Though I wish you would not go."

Peter ran in the front door and straight to Hermione's table.

"Mama says you are going up the mountain, Hermione. Do not go! It is bad there. You won't come back!" he said, his brown eyes glistening. Hermione reached out and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. He smelled of the ocean. He must have been on the beach.

"I will be fine, Peter. I have protection," she said.

The boy narrowed his eyes at her.

"You have no magic. You can't be safe," he said accusingly.

"I have other things that will help me. Don't worry. I will be back," she said softly.

Peter stared at her a moment, a black scowl on his face. Then he ran to the back of the inn, clearly upset. Petra looked after him.

"Don't mind, Peter. He likes you and Raucous. He doesn't understand you have something important to do. He is afraid that you won't come back, like his father didn't come back," Petra said softly, sitting down across from Hermione.

"Did he disappear on the mountain?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed.

"No," Petra replied, "He was trying to draw in his nets during a storm and his boat capsized, and was broken up against the rocks. His body was never found, but we believed the sea took him. Peter was four then. He would spend hours on the shore, looking for his father, waiting for him to return. One day he came home and told me his father was gone forever. His heart was broken. The idea of losing someone else he knows frightens him."

"I will come back and show him I'm all right," Hermione promised.

Petra smiled and patted her hand.

"I hope you do, Hermione," the Lemurian said.

Raucous had made short work of Hermione's ham and was busily devouring her eggs.

"Raucous, you selfish, greedy little thief!" Hermione scolded him. Raucous cawed at her and flew to the bar with her crusty bread.

Petra laughed. "Don't worry. I will bring you more, Hermione. It seems Raucous expected his own meal after yesterday."

Raucous stopped eating the bread long enough to caw in agreement, then continued pecking, tearing and devouring his ill-gotten gains.

Petra returned with another plate of food, which Hermione wrapped one arm protectively around as she ate, observed by Raucous from the bar. It was clear that as far as his mistress was concerned, he had eaten his fill.

Breakfast done, Hermione walked over to her pack, hoisted it on her back and handed a sad-faced Petra the key to her room. Petra kissed her on both cheeks, and Hermione exited the inn and started up the road toward the mountain trail, Raucous flying before her.

It was all or nothing now.

* * *

Venoma sat by the window, shading her eyes from the sun and scanning the skies. Ketri had not yet responded. She should have heard something by now. The greedy wizard never wasted time reported. Information was Croupkas after all. The witch had a bad feeling about this.

Vivaldi sat in the armchair, strumming his lyre and singing a melancholy song of unrequited love in a sweet tenor voice. Everything he composed was melancholy, reflecting the sadness in his heart concerning his unanswered longing for his half-sister. Venoma was aware of this, and encouraged his dark, brooding creations. It kept him focused on her to the exclusion of all else. If the young wizard were to have his heart drawn elsewhere, Venoma feared she might have to attend him in order to keep him lusting after her. She did not want to do this, but was not beyond committing incest to keep her standing in the House of Snape. It would be a necessary sacrifice. She glanced at the wizard. He was dark, intense, like most of the males of her house. It might not be an unpleasant sacrifice at any rate. She looked back out the window and frowned. She had waited enough. She placed her fingers on either side of her temples and concentrated.

"Ozmadias, come to me," she thought, summoning her familiar.

She opened the window and waited.

Several minutes later she saw the approaching speck. She smiled. The speck grew larger and the great copper bird fluttered outside the window, then crowded into the sill, lowering his head for a caress from his mistress.

"Ozmadias, Ketri has not returned," Venoma said, stroking his white crest lovingly, "I fear something has gone wrong. I want you to fly down the mountain and over the village and send me what you see."

The bird squawked and fell out the window, straightened himself and plummeted downward. He would watch for his mistress.

He would not fail her.

* * *

Raucous flew ahead of Hermione, arriving at the mountain path first. He settled on the large stone Hermione had sat upon the night before, when Ketri accosted her. The raven looked around. There was little more than stone, brush and a few trees. The bird looked up the mountainside, his sharp eyes taking in the rugged features of the mountain. He noticed an outcrop of stone, oddly colored. He looked closer.

Ozmadias looked down at the black bird standing on a rock at the beginning of the mountain path. He didn't move but just watched as the bird streaked off as if pursued by birdie devils. He decided to change his position and flapped over a few feet where a jagged piece of stone jutted out, leaving a shadowed depression. He hopped down and shouldered his bulk into it. Now he could see the path, but anyone on it would not see him. He hunkered down.

Raucous streaked back to Hermione, cawing loudly. He settled on her shoulder and made such a racket, Hermione stopped.

"What's wrong, Raucous?" she asked.

The bird continued to squawk, shifting from one leg to the other and frantically preening Hermione's hair, which resulted in him pulling strands from her ponytail.

"I don't understand," Hermione said. Raucous hopped to the ground and stared at Hermione, focusing as best he could. Hermione looked back at him. Suddenly, fuzzily she began to perceive an image. It was of a huge copper colored bird, at least twenty meters high, with a curved beak and huge fangs protruding from it. It had blood-red eyes and blood dribbled from a corner of its mouth. It had curved and bloody swords for talons, and these too dripped blood.

Hermione was shocked. First that she had received an image, and second that it was so horrifying. Obviously Raucous was truly her familiar now and could send her images. She looked down at the raven.

"Raucous, did you see this creature on the mountain?" she asked him.

At first, Raucous nodded. Then he shook his head. The image in Hermione's head shrunk dramatically, lost the fangs and swords, and the eyes turned golden. The dripping blood disappeared too. It was still a rather large and frightening bird, but nothing like the first image the excited raven sent her.

"Ok, this is what you saw on the mountain," Hermione said to Raucous. The bird nodded. Hermione looked thoughtful. She really didn't know exactly how big the bird was or what kind it was. It was a bird of prey however, the wickedly curved beak and sharp talons showed that much. It shouldn't be a danger to her if it were a wild animal. But it could be a danger to Raucous.

"Raucous, that bird is a hunter. To it, you're food on the wing. You can go back to the village and wait for me to return. You'd probably be safer," Hermione said.

Raucous squawked indignantly. How dare she suggest he run away and leave her defenseless?

The raven hopped on her shoulder and cawed fiercely at the mountain. He wasn't going anywhere. He would just stay low and be wary. He was a good flyer, and there were trees and boughs to flit through. He knew how big the bird was. He could get into places it couldn't.

Hermione smiled at Raucous. He was going to stay with her.

"All right, but I want you to be careful and stick by me," she said. Raucous preened her hair again. Hermione waved at him and he fluttered in the air a moment before settling back on her shoulder.

"Stop preening my hair," Hermione said, stopping and removing her tie so she could fix her ponytail, "you keep pulling it out of the tie." Raucous cawed non-commitally.

Her hair tied back neatly, Hermione continued on until she came to the beginning of the mountain path. It was wide and ascended at a gentle slope. She would have no trouble hiking up it. A small stone rolled down the trail and stopped. Hermione didn't think anything of it, until the stone rolled back up the trail and disappeared around the bend.

"That was odd," Hermione said to Raucous who stared after the stone, his beak open. Hermione remembered what Petra had said about the stones and trees being animate. She took a deep breath, the ditty about sticks and stones breaking bones dancing about uncomfortably in her head.

"Let's go, Raucous," she said starting up the trail.

Ozmadias waited for them to get a distance away then stepped out of the cleft and soared strongly upward to the Manor. Mistress would want to see this.

* * *

Venoma was still sitting in the window seat, watching the skies. Vivaldi was sitting close behind her, playing in her raven tresses, lifting the weight of it and letting it fall over his pale hands. In his mind he imagined it wrapped around his body as he made love to his half-sister. It was his favorite fantasy image. He knew how to make love. He had several Lemurian concubines who doubled as servants that stayed in the Manor, orphaned girls provided by Ketri and brought up in a basket by Ozmadias. But they were unlike his sister. The women were short and rounded, with brown hair and brown eyes, not tall and slender with ebony locks and black eyes like Venoma. They had all the right parts however, and Vivaldi would possess them while fantasizing about his beautiful sibling.

He was drawing his hand through her hair for the umpteenth time when she stiffened, then leaned forward excitedly, throwing open the window. Ozmadias squeezed his bulk in, and lowered his head for his usual caresses. Vivaldi felt a stab of jealousy as his sister's lovely hands stroked the big, ugly bird.

"What news my pet?" she asked the bird gently. Ozmadias stared at her, sending the images of Hermione and Raucous walking up the mountain path. He also showed her the ring on Hermione's hand. Venoma let out a little scream of delight, kicking her feet, then hugging the great fowl around his neck.

"Thank you, Ozmadias. You have done well my pet," she said, kissing his beak. If birds could blush, Ozmadias would have been a deep shade of crimson. It seemed Venoma's appeal crossed the species line as well. Venoma released him.

"Go now and keep watch, Ozmadias. Tell me when the mountain has claimed her," she said. The bird nodded and dropped from the window. Vivaldi had listened to his sister in silence. Now that the bird was gone, he could find out what she learned.

"What? What is it, sister?" Vivaldi asked, rising from behind the witch and walking around to face her.

"The deliverer is on her way up the mountain path, my brother," Venoma said excitedly. "She is wearing the ring! We only need wait till the mountain takes her, and send Ozmadias to pluck the ring off her cold, dead hand."

Vivaldi smiled, then frowned.

"What if she makes it up the mountain, sister? What if she makes it to the tomb?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "The ring may protect her."

"She's not a Snape. The ring may do a little something, but the guardian will not manifest for her. She will need the guardian to survive," Venoma said wickedly. "I will be surprised if she survives the day. And if she somehow manages it…the night will take her for certain."

Vivaldi still looked doubtful.

"But sister, what if she does manage to get here. We must consider that possibility, no matter how small the chance of success is," the wizard said, his dark eyes meeting hers firmly. He was no longer so easy to sidetrack.

Venoma narrowed her eyes at him in displeasure.

"If she should make it, by some miracle, we will stop her at the tomb itself," Venoma practically hissed at Vivaldi. "She is traveling without magic after all. She will not be able to defend herself."

"But the ring…" Vivaldi said. Venoma cut him off.

"Damn the ring, Vivaldi. It will not protect her against its own," she spat.

Vivaldi wasn't certain of that. Severus had given her the ring, probably with his blessing. He wasn't sure how much power would manifest. His sister was becoming careless in her greed. He slid his eyes toward her. Venoma was looking out the window with a glazed look in her eyes. So beautiful. Well, he would protect her from herself. But once he got the ring…she would submit to him or he would cast her out. He was tired of waiting. He was the Lord of the Manor and all were to obey him. The ring would seal that. His black eyes shifted out the window to the blue sky beyond. He would restore the Manor to greatness. The Lemurians below would pay tribute again to the House of Snape, giving him a portion of all they produced in return for being allowed to live a peaceful existence. They would most likely refuse at first, but his powers would be intensified, strengthened by the ring and he would be merciless. The old ways would return. Then life would return to the way it should be.

* * *

Hermione had been walking up the path for a good two hours now, and there had been no attacks. On occasion a stone would roll by her, stop and return. If she had been a Lemurian, the stone would have recognized her as an intruder and initiated an avalanche. Without the magical signature, she was safe.

Raucous rode on her shoulder, looking around carefully for the big bird. He didn't like not knowing where it was. It was big enough to attack Hermione. Suddenly Hermione stopped.

A sound like distant thunder was drawing closer. She stopped and set her pack down, listening. The noise grew louder and she could make out a large cloud in the distance. The path was longer now. The mountain was huge and the trail seemed to extend straight out before her.

The cloud drew closer and she could make out shapes, moving swiftly. Her eyes widened.

Unicorns.

And they were charging down on her. Desperately, Hermione looked around for an escape. There was nowhere to run but back down the trail, and they would catch her quickly. There were no rocky ledges low enough to climb on. She was trapped. She stared in horror as the animals drew closer.

Hermione could see the leader, a magnificent white stallion with a long, shiny spiral horn leading the charge. He had to be eighteen hands high at the withers. He flew toward the witch, smoke blowing from his nostrils, his horn lowered to skewering height. His eyes seemed made of flame. Behind him, several more unicorns charged. There were silver foals too. And they all looked angry as they galloped toward her.

She had only been on the mountainside a couple of hours, and it seemed her time was up.

Above her, Ozmadias observed the happenings from a high outcropping, his sharp eyes watching the advancing unicorns close the distance between themselves and the witch. Would she be skewered or trampled? Probably both.

The mistress would be pleased.

* * *

Suddenly Raucous leaped off Hermione's shoulder and streaked toward the charging herd of unicorns.

"Raucous!" Hermione cried as the raven soared toward the animals. She watched as the bird began to beat around the head of the leader of the herd, worrying the animal until it stopped, tossing its great horn and pawing at the earth restlessly. Then Raucous did something amazing. He fluttered to the unicorn's back. Instead of bucking the raven off, the animal turned its head, listening as Raucous strutted and cawed. The unicorn tossed its head several times, and looked back at Hermione, lifting its head high as if scenting. It nickered and turned its head back to Raucous. The bird chattered a bit more, then flew back to Hermione, landing on her shoulder and watching the herd of unicorns intently.

The leader reared and spun on his back hooves in front of the herd, which duplicated his actions, then they charged up the mountain. Not up the path, but straight up the side of the mountain, running vertically over the crags and ledges at an impossible angle. Not one of them fell. They angled off and disappeared.

Hermione looked at the raven, who was preening himself rather proudly.

"Raucous, what did you do?" she asked the bird.

Raucous sent her an image of two ravens mating, then a big red "X" appeared over them, then her own image. Hermione had to think about it a second, then realized what the bird was trying to project.

"Ah, you told him I was a virgin," Hermione said, smiling and stroking Raucous. The bird stretched out his head as her hand smoothed over his glossy feathers.

"Good thing you told them, Raucous. I really don't think they were going to stop and find out if I was pure or not," Hermione said, looking up the mountain towards where the animals disappeared. "I wonder why they were attacking? Unicorns where we come from don't attack. They are shy and stay away from humans for the most part, though they do like virgins."

Raucous sent the image of a disemboweled and partially eaten unicorn foal. Hermione gasped and pushed the horrible and heartbreaking image out of her head.

"Something is killing foals," Hermione said, "Yes, I can see how they would be on the warpath. They are searching for the killer. Any strangers would immediately be suspect. Obviously they don't think a virgin would do such a thing."

She looked at Raucous.

"I'm glad you talked me into taking you with me, Raucous, or I'd probably be a corpse right now. Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. Raucous cawed as if it were nothing. But he felt rather proud. He had saved his mistress' life.

Hermione hoisted her backpack back on.

"Well, let's keep moving Raucous. I've miles to go before I sleep," she said, paraphrasing a line from Frost. The two headed up the trail.

From his perch, Ozmadias watched them leave. The mistress would not be pleased about this. The bird the strange witch traveled with turned the unicorn herd. Her wrath would be terrible. Ozmadias decided to continue to watch until he had better news to bring Venoma. Once she had singed his tail feathers for bringing her bad tidings. She was of a sweet disposition to him most of the time, but she still was a Snape. Snapes didn't like to be thwarted at anything. He took to the air, soaring high and catching a thermal. He would watch them from above.

* * *

Snape had watched Hermione facing the charging unicorn herd with his heart in his throat. He had been positive that her virgin status would protect her from Sewell. But the unicorn had been so enraged that he would have killed her first, then realized his error afterward. Thank the gods for Raucous. Mu had the most aggressive unicorns on earth. A unicorn from Mu would charge a hunter rather than wait for him to take a shot. They were surprisingly successful at killing hunters. Then they discovered the mountain could protect them from men and took up residence there, rather than the lowlands. It worked well for them.

Well, that was one protection down. Snape watched as Hermione made her way up the mountain. She had picked up a long thick limb and whittled off the branches with a little red folding knife that had an amazing amount of blades and doodads. Severus had never seen anything like it. She was using it as a staff since the trail was steeper now. She was quite the resourceful witch.

Snape felt his consciousness begin to drift again. He roused himself. He had to watch Hermione make this journey. So much rode on her success.

* * *

Night was falling and Hermione searched for a place to make camp. She found a grassy space slightly removed from the path. It was fairly level and near some trees, so she could gather wood for a fire. She removed her pack and used her staff to dig a depression in the earth. She gathered a bit of brown grass and twigs for kindling, then a few larger pieces of wood. It was nice and dry. Before long, she had a nice little fire going. She opened her pack and took out the pop tent, and pulled it out of its carrier. It sprang open, ready for business.

Hermione unrolled her sleeping bag, took out her warming stone and put both inside the tent, zipping it closed so it would retain heat. She then sat close to the fire and took out the bag of meat and bread Petra gave her for the journey. Raucous fluttered down beside the witch, looking at the bag with interest. Hermione handed him a strip of meat. The raven flew up to a branch above the camp and set to tearing the dried meat apart. It was tough, but he managed.

After finishing her meal and relieving herself, Hermione retired, putting out the fire and sealing the tent. She removed most of her clothing and slipped into the sleeping bag. She was exhausted. In moments, she was asleep. Outside, Raucous moved to the inner boughs of the tree he was planning to sleep in. If the big bird came for him, he would hear him struggling through the branches and have time to escape. Too bad he couldn't sleep with one eye open.

Snape watched Hermione to see if the dream mist would appear, but it didn't. Hermione was in a dreamless sleep again. It was just as well. She needed her rest. Snape had a feeling that their next encounter would largely consist of snogging and a very forced abstinence. He allowed his consciousness to drift while she slept.

* * *

Grog yawned a terrible, snaggle-toothed yawn, stretched his knotted muscles and scratched his tattered loincloth that hung loosely between his tree trunk-like legs. The ogre grabbed his club and exited his cave, kicking bones out of the way as he did so. He blinked into the night as his eyes adjusted. Yes, now he could see. Maybe tonight he could catch a sleeping unicorn. Or a bear. He had a terrible appetite. He threw his club over his shoulder and walked down the mountain path noiselessly. Ogres looked big and clumsy but they were quite light on their feet. Just because they were ten meters tall and made primarily of muscle was no reason to think they just barreled through the world. Sure, they might knock down a forest or two when enraged or in need of exercise but for the most part they were quiet creatures. They had to be. They were hunters. Carnivorous hunters. They only ate meat, preferably still wriggling

Grog sniffed the air. Hm. There was a strange but familiar scent wafting on the breeze. Human flesh. Something the ogre hadn't tasted for years. He smiled horribly, with all his large rotten teeth showing, and rubbed his enormously bulbous nose, then headed in the direction the scent was coming from. If it was a man, the ogre knew it would be an easy capture. One good bash with his club ought to do it. His victim would never see him coming. He hoped he didn't bash too hard. Meat tasted so much sweeter when it was screaming.

* * *

Herimone was sleeping peacefully, her head resting on her hands. She was so exhausted that she did not wake when the ring began to pulse with a blue light that quickly grew in intensity and strength. It pulsed faster and faster until the flashing became a steady glow that dimmed as Hermione shifted in her sleep, then brightened as she fell still.

Ozmadias was sitting on the mountainside, watching the campsite from his perch. His golden eyes showed no reaction as the tent lit up inside, but he cocked his head with interest as the glow intensified until it surrounded the small tent. It hovered a moment, then drifted a few meters away from the campsite, condensing into a dark solid shape and settling on the side of the mountain path. To the watching bird, it seemed as if the glow had simply extinguished itself, but a form sat there in the darkness. Waiting.

Grog picked up his pace, salivating as the scent of human flesh grew stronger. He moved noiselessly down the mountain path intent on a fast, hot, squirming meal. Ozmadias watched the ogre pass from his perch on the mountainside. He could barely make him out in the darkness, but he knew Grog. The ogre had come close to eating him once, stealthily climbing up the mountain as the large bird dozed. Only a misstep that dislodged a stone alerted Ozmadias to the great brute's approach and he barely got away, leaving a handful of tail feathers in Grog's knotty clutches. He had no love for the ogre, but knew he was an efficient killer. Hopefully he would not swallow down the ring when he ate the witch, and spit it out with her bones. Otherwise he would be forced to track the ogre and retrieve the ring from his droppings. Ozmadias clipped his beak in disgust. There were few things in this world as pungent and revolting as ogre droppings. The bird shuddered.

Grog walked a few more meters. The scent was extremely strong. He looked off the path and saw an extinguished campfire and a small orange shape. He smiled toothily. His meal came already packaged. The ogre moved so quietly that Raucous, asleep in the tree with his head under his wing, never heard him approach, and so sounded no warning. Step by step, the ogre drew closer to the tent, and the unsuspecting witch inside. He lifted his club high. He would bash the entire tent, that way he'd be sure his meal would be properly tenderized.

Grog threw his weight forward to bash the tent, but found he could not bring his club down. He tried again, straining, but his club was immovable. The ogre turned his head and looked up. His small sharp eyes went wide with terror and he released the club, turned and ran, leaving a pungent dropping behind.

The ogre loped up the mountain path at top speed, his ponderous heart pounding in fright, his grotesque face contorted in fear. Was it chasing him? Small stones shuddered as he trundled past, not so silent in fleeing mode. Grog didn't stop running until he was safely in his cave, his chest heaving, his great bulk hunched against the furthest wall, crouched and trembling. He had never seen anything bigger than him on the mountain. Until this night, the ogre hadn't known the meaning of fear. Grog's ears twisted forward alertly. He thought he heard a small, scraping sound outside the cave entrance. The ogre grabbed a huge thigh bone and clutched it close to his chest as if for comfort, his small eyes focused on the cave entrance. There was another scraping sound, louder this time. Something heavy was moving over the stones. Suddenly the cave entrance went black as a great shape filled it. Grog bellowed shrilly in horror as the thing advanced at lightning speed and closed over him.

Hermione woke. The ring had heated up uncomfortably on her finger, then quickly cooled. She looked at it groggily, her brow furrowed with irritation, then rolled over and fell back into her dreamless sleep.

Outside, Ozmadias watched the scene unfold. He had been surprised to see the ogre flee. He didn't see a reason for it. Something had happened, but he wasn't sure what. His night vision wasn't that good. No matter, the witch was still safe, which meant the mistress would still be very displeased. She had escaped death twice. That was two times too many.

* * *

Hermione woke to the gentle sound of bird songs. She wriggled out of the sleeping bag and stretched. She hadn't had a bad night at all, except when the ring woke her by heating up on her finger. She didn't understand why it did that. This was the second time it had happened. She dressed herself, retied her ponytail, then flattened and tightly rolled her sleeping bag. She unzipped the opening, picked up the bag and the warming stone, then exited the tent. Immediately she gagged and dropped her items, clamping her hand over her mouth and nose. What the hell was that smell?

Hermione's amber eyes scanned the campsite and fell on a pile of droppings, covered by buzzing insects. She had never smelled anything so horrible. She screwed up her face and hurriedly scrunched down the pop tent and inserted it in its carrier. She tied her sleeping bag on to the backpack, put the stone inside, slipped it on, grabbed her staff and quickly departed the campsite. Gods, that dung stunk!

Raucous was standing on a rock off the path, upwind of the droppings. He had discovered the disgusting pile as soon as he awoke and with a squawk of distaste hastily abandoned the campsite for sweeter smelling environs. He had cawed hilariously at Hermione's reaction as she emerged from the tent, rolling on his feathered back, his claws kicking in the air The look on her face had been priceless. Hermione stalked up to the mirthful raven and glared at him as she huffed in the fresh air, trying to get rid of the stench that seemed to be clinging to her nose hairs. Raucous rolled to his feet, his black eyes glittering at her with mirth.

"That had to be the most disgusting thing I have ever smelled," she said, frowning back at the campsite. "I wonder what left it? That was a huge pile of dung. The animal had to be enormous."

Raucous shrugged, fluttered to her shoulder and started pecking at her backpack insistently. Hermione looked at him.

"I should make you forage for your breakfast," she seethed as she took off the backpack, opened it and took out the bag of dried meat. "You could have warned me about the droppings. Sent me an image or something."

She handed Raucous a piece of meat, took out another slice for herself and a piece of bread, then leaned against the stone, and began to eat. Her amber eyes wandered around idly as she chewed, looking at the landscape. She looked up the mountain, and stopped chewing. There on a crag, sat the huge bird Raucous had shown her. It appeared to be sleeping.

"Raucous," she whispered, "Is that the bird you saw yesterday?"

Raucous stopped ripping at his meat and looked up. He fluffed his feathers excitedly and let out a low squawk of assent as his black eyes fell on Ozmadias.

"He's huge. He could probably carry me away," Hermione breathed. She considered the bird. It was late. Most animals were up at this time. Why was the bird asleep? It didn't have the features of a nocturnal bird. And a nocturnal bird wouldn't sleep in the open. Something definitely wasn't right here.

"Raucous," she said in a low voice. "Let's go. Quietly."

The raven hopped on her shoulder and they quietly headed up the path, leaving the sleeping Ozmadias to his dreams.

* * *

Venoma was pacing the setting room in front of the window, stopping from time to time to look out of it, scanning the skies for her familiar. Ozmadias hadn't contacted her in almost twenty-four hours. Where was that blasted bird?

Vivaldi awoke, his black eyes blinking away sleep. He tried to move and found both arms trapped under two naked, sleeping concubines, curled against him on either side. He sighed.

"Asera, Handei, get up," he said, "I have to leave."

Both women stretched and wrapped their arms over his slim pale body. Two sets of brown eyes stared at him affectionately.

"No, Vivaldi, stay with us," Asera breathed, pulling on him insistently.

Vivaldi looked at the Lemurian witch. She had been with him since she was fourteen. She was eighteen now. He sighed.

"There is something important going on. I have to go see Venoma," he said, trying to unwrap the arms holding him to the bed.

Handei groaned, and pressed against him seductively, her large breasts pressing against the side of his chest, her leg crossing his as she pressed her hot sex against his thigh. He looked at her, feeling a stirring in his loins. Handei had come to him when she was sixteen. She was nineteen now, a tigress from the very start and his favorite. She would do anything for him and to him. She never complained when he was rough with her, like the others did. He steeled himself and wriggled free of them both. He rolled from the bed, both women's brown eyes sweeping over his body hungrily. He grinned down at them, his organ hard as a rock. He really did have to go, however.

"You two would drain me dry if I stayed here with you. Pleasure each other if you need orgasms so badly," he said. "The women smiled at him, then moved into each other's arms and began to kiss. Vivaldi watched them caress each other for several moments, and considered joining them again, but…duty called. He slipped on his robes and headed for his own room, closing the door on the gasping concubines.

The wizard showered and dressed quickly. He was starving. Last night had been enjoyable but tiring. He satisfied both women several times, Venoma swimming in his head as they climbed over each other sweating and panting. He liked doing two women at one time. It increased his stamina. When he finally got Venoma…

Vivaldi sighed as he walked toward the kitchens, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. So much hinged on his getting his hands on the ring. Venoma was making him nervous. She looked so hungry whenever she spoke of the ring. The young wizard was starting to believe she had designs on it, and on taking over Snape Manor. With the ring in her possession she could do it. If she did, she wouldn't stand for his presence there. He would always be a threat if she didn't force him to leave the Manor, or worse…kill him with the power of the ring. His black eyes glittered. He would have to make sure he was the one to claim the ring.

Vivaldi pushed open the kitchen door, startling the servants. He walked to the storeroom and looked at the cured meats. He selected a ham and set it on the counter. He made a cutting motion with his hand and several pieces of meat were sliced neatly from the bone. He gathered them together and exited the storeroom. He walked to the kitchen table and sat down.

"Bread? Plate?" he asked one of the servants, who hurriedly brought a plate to the Master, then retrieved a loaf of fresh crusty bread from the oven and set it in a basket and brought it over to the table, setting it down close to Vivaldi.

"Drink?" the wizard said, as he broke off a piece of bread and wrapped it around the meat, taking a healthy bite and chewing. A glass of cold juice was set next to him, and he picked it up and drained half of it.

"Bring me the pitcher," he said around his meal.

The nervous servant quickly obliged him. She wasn't used to seeing her Master in the kitchens. She had only been at the Manor for three months. Vivaldi looked up at her. He hadn't yet bedded her. He made it a point to shag all the female servants. It was his right as Lord of the Manor.

"What's your name?" Vivaldi asked her, his black eyes sweeping over her. She had brown eyes and brown hair, full lips and a curvaceous shape.

"Shaaron," the nervous girl replied. His black eyes settled on her face.

"How old are you?" the wizard asked her, turning slightly in his chair to see her better as he ate.

"Seventeen, my Lord," she responded.

Vivaldi smirked. She was young.

"Are you a virgin, Shaaron?" he asked her.

The girl blushed. Vivaldi took that as a yes. He leaned back in his chair and stared at her until her blush spread over her entire body.

"You know your duties as a servant of this Manor?" Vivaldi asked her, his voice low.

"Yes, my Lord. They were told to me when I arrived three months ago," she answered him, her eyes lowered to the floor.

Vivaldi leaned forward.

"Then I assume you know your duty towards me," he said, his black eyes sweeping over her again.

"Yes, my Lord," the girl responded in a small voice. Yes, she did know. And she dreaded it. She had heard stories about how Vivaldi treated virgins from the other servants.

The wizard looked her over one more time.

"Tonight, instead of retiring to the servants quarters, I want you to come to my rooms. Be prepared to stay the night," Vivaldi said to her. He had let her go long enough.

"Yes, my Lord," the girl said in a whisper, curtseying.

Vivaldi nodded in approval. "Return to your work," he said, dismissing the girl.

Vivaldi turned back to the table and continued eating. The girl returned to her work, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. It wouldn't do for her Lord to see her cry.

Vivaldi wolfed down the remaining bread and meat. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and rose from the table. Taking one more look at the girl, who was bending over as she tended the oven, he smiled lasciviously, then exited the kitchen.

He needed to check on his half-sister.

* * *

Finally, Venoma could stand it no longer. She pressed her slim fingers to her temples.

"Ozmadias, come to me! Now!" she thought angrily, sending the thought to the familiar.

Ozmadias woke with a start. His mistress had summoned him, and she sounded pissed. The bird looked down toward the campsite to see the witch and the raven gone. Damn, they had left while he slept. Ozmadias hesitated. He had to go to Venoma. She would not be pleased with what he had to show her. The great bird, then leapt off the mountainside and flapped strongly upward, heading for the Manor. He didn't rush.

* * *

Hermione and Raucous were making good time. They were halfway up the mountain and the way was clear. Professor Snape had been right. Hermione's lack of magic was giving her easy passage. The trees trembled a bit as she passed but did not reach out their limbs to grab her. The stones did not trigger avalanches, and the path itself did not swallow her when she passed over the magically triggered traps. The witch hiked up the mountain at a good clip, passing Grog's cave with no idea that the ogre ever existed.

Raucous flew ahead, his beady eyes pealed for the great bird. He saw no sign of it. Hopefully it was still sleeping back by the campsite. Unfortunately, he didn't see the hawk watching him from a shadowed crag in the side of the mountain. This was a wild bird with only one thought, food. The hawk dropped out of the crag and soared silently behind Raucous, talons extended.

Luckily, Hermione saw the hawk drop and screamed, "Raucous, a hawk! Fly for the trees!"

The raven didn't even look back but headed straight for the trees, the hawk in deadly pursuit. The raven dove into a tangle of branches and hopped through them, heading for an even denser clump several meters away. The hawk tried to follow unsuccessfully and let out a screech of frustration, and took to the air. It hovered about a bit, Raucous peering up at it from between the branches, spewing a slew of cawing birdie obscenities. Hermione stopped under the tree and coaxed the angry, frightened raven down to her shoulder. The hawk flew overhead, but did not attempt to attack Raucous again, because of the presence of the witch. Eventually the hawk left, deciding to look for a meal elsewhere.

As Hermione continued up the trail, Raucous sent her images showing the hawk being killed in a number of nasty ways, the most heroic being Raucous running the hawk through with a fantastically lengthened and sharpened beak, then cawing victoriously, one claw firmly planted on its twitching body. Hermione laughed at this and told him he was a very brave bird. Raucous preened himself at the praise. He stayed on Hermione's shoulder until dusk.

* * *

Ozmadias arrived at Snape Manor and squeezed his feathered bulk into the windowsill. Venoma was waiting for him, and there was no smile on her face.

"Ozmadias, why did you not contact me? This is very important. What happened to the witch?" she asked the bird, frowning.

Ozmadias sent her images of the charging unicorns being turned by Raucous, and of Grog fleeing the campsite. Venoma was livid and very concerned about the glow that had surrounded Hermione's tent.

"This is impossible. She is not a Snape. How could the guardian manifest to protect her? It cannot be invoked by one who is not a member of our family. Something is very wrong here. Very strange and very wrong," she said, pacing the setting room.

Vivaldi entered, and knew immediately something was wrong by the angry way Venoma was striding back and forth across the room, her black gown swishing in her wake. He watched her for a moment before he spoke.

"Sister, what's wrong?" he asked her.

Venoma looked at him, her black eyes blazing with rage.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? The witch still lives, that's what's wrong. The mountain's protections have failed to work against her, and she escaped Sewell and Grog," Venoma spat. She turned to Ozmadias.

"Where is she now, Ozmadias?" she asked the bird. He had been afraid of this. He sent her an image of the abandoned campsite.

"Where did she go? How did you lose her?" Venoma demanded, her fists clenched. She was trembling slightly.

Ozmadias sent an image of himself sleeping. It was unfair of Venoma to expect him to stay awake a full day. He had to sleep after all.

"You fucking featherbrain!" Venoma screeched, lifting her hands to blast the bird. Ozmadias closed his eyes. Vivaldi ran to the window and grasped his sister's hands, stopping her from using her power. He wasn't particularly crazy about Ozmadias, but he was useful, and needed for deliveries and messages as well as spying.

"Venoma! No! Are you mad? We need Ozmadias! Calm down!" the wizard said, holding her hands tightly.

Venoma looked at him with such hatred in her eyes that the wizard quailed. The witch seemed to realize that she was showing her true colors, and quickly calmed, her eyes hooded.

"I'm sorry brother. This situation has me on edge. I didn't mean it," she said, her eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. She fell into Vivaldi's arms, pressing herself against him as she did so. The wizard held his sister, relishing his arms around her slim body, her breasts pressed against him. He made sure there was no contact below his waist. Her effect on him would be too obvious. He smoothed his hand over her silky hair.

"It's all right, Venoma," he purred comfortingly, "You're under a lot of strain. If she makes it to the top of the mountain, we will handle her. Don't worry," he said.

Venoma pulled back from him.

"But Vivaldi…the guardian manifested for her!" Venoma said.

Vivaldi was stunned. The guardian only manifested for members of the Snape family. How could it show up for the witch? He looked at Ozmadias.

"The bird saw the guardian?" he asked, his eyes curious.

"No, it was too dark. But he saw the glow around the witch's tent. It protected her from Grog," Venoma replied, displeasure etched in her beautiful face.

Vivaldi frowned.

"It will be hard to stop her if the guardian is protecting her, Venoma," he said.

He wanted the ring, but it would do him no good if he were dead. Vivaldi was quite sensible when it came to situations like this. Life good, death bad. Very simple really.

"Perhaps we should just let her complete her mission and go," he suggested.

Venoma looked at him in horror, then disdain.

"You coward. You would let her take what belongs to us and leave here unmolested? You have no backbone. You aren't a man, you're a sniveling little boy," she spat at him, her eyes narrowed.

Vivaldi's nostrils flared. Venoma had never spoken to him like this. Before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed Venoma's wrist and twisted her arm behind her back painfully.

"Don't you EVER call me a coward, or a boy, Venoma. I am very much a man, and the Master of this house! Just because I allow you to run the Manor as you wish does not give you the right to demean me. I can have you beaten, flogged within an inch of your wretched life. You too are subject to my will, sister. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I am a Snape and will not hesitate to punish my own, if necessary. Don't ever disrespect me again. Do you understand me?" he hissed against her ear, pressing against her with his body. He made sure as well that she felt his erection, though he made no mention of forcing her.

Venoma was frightened. She had never seen this side of Vivaldi. She didn't know the wizard contained so much anger or brutality.

"Yes, Vivaldi, I understand," she whispered. He let her go and spun her to face him.

"I hope you don't plan retribution, Venoma. Any attempt on my life will be dealt with harshly and quickly," he said, looking into her black eyes with his own stony gaze. "And I know you want the ring for yourself, sister. It will never happen. If we acquire it, it will be placed on my finger, and passed on to my heirs. If you try to secure it, I will look upon such an act as a personal attack and act accordingly."

Venoma looked at the wizard. She had badly underestimated him. She had assumed she had Vivaldi wrapped around her finger by keeping him panting after her. Apparently, lust wasn't enough to keep the Snape genes at bay. The wizard was as cruel and wicked as any of his forebears. He had his own agenda and she had never recognized it. She had no doubt he would do something terrible to her if she stepped out of line. She looked at Vivaldi with a new respect. Now he was acting like a true Lord of the Manor. It was a bit of a turn-on.

"Yes, my Lord," she said softly.

Vivaldi looked at her. It was the first time his half-sister had acknowledged his title. It empowered him. He gave her a smirk, then his eyes swept over her slowly.

Ozmadias watched the exchange. He was grateful to Vivaldi for stopping Venoma. If she blasted him, there was a good chance she would have killed him. She might not have given him a full blast, but he would have been stunned and fallen from the window. He probably would not have been able to recover quick enough to right himself and fly. He might have been dashed against the mountain.

"Send the bird back down to watch the witch's progress. Tell him to return either when she reaches the top of the mountain or when the mountain takes her," Vivaldi instructed his sister. Ozmadias understood him, but Vivaldi respected the familiar/master arrangement and did not order him directly. Venoma repeated the instructions to the bird, then hugged him around the neck. Ozmadias took it stiffly.

"I'm sorry my pet," Venoma said, stroking his crest.

Ozmadias remained aloof. She had almost blasted him. He needed time to re-establish trust, if he ever would. Venoma seemed to sense this, and pulled back from the bird, her dark eyes sad. She really was sorry. She had that undisciplined Snape temperament and had acted before she thought.

"Go, my pet," she said shortly.

Ozmadias dropped out the window and flew off strongly. Now only Venoma and Vivaldi remained in the setting room. The wizard looked at her, aware of his new status in her eyes. He should have twisted her arm long ago. It seemed she responded to strength, rather than adoration.

"You have angered me greatly, Venoma,' he said, his eyes cold now.

Venoma lowered her eyes.

"I am sorry, my Lord," she responded.

Vivaldi looked at her, wondering if he dared. He did.

"How sorry are you, sister?" he breathed, his black eyes glittering hotly at her.

Venoma looked at him, calculating her situation in her mind. The balance of power had changed. Her half-brother had asserted his lordship of the Manor, and her place as his subject. She had lost power, and in her mind, favor. There was only one way she could get it back.

Venoma wrapped her arms around her half-brother, pressed her body tight against his and gave him a very unsisterly kiss.

"Very sorry," she said, her eyes liquid. "How can I make it up to you my Lord?"

Vivaldi stared at her a moment, the taste of her still on his lips, her curves molded to his body. The wizard partially turned and waved his hand at the setting room door, closing and locking it.

"I am sure you will find a way, sister" he said..

* * *

Ozmadias circled high overhead and found Hermione quickly. She was almost at the top of the mountain. He settled high on a crag, knowing the black bird was watching for him. He didn't want to tip his wing. He would stay awake the entire night. He didn't want to go through that experience with his mistress again.

* * *

Hermione had made good time and was more than three quarters of the way up the mountain. She could just make out Snape Manor. The domicile seemed to built mostly of stone, but part of it seemed to be actually carved into the side of the mountain. The Professor's estranged family lived there. Hermione did not intend to meet them but find the ancestral tomb directly. It would be better to get permission, but she felt since she had the ring, there would most likely be a confrontation. She wanted to avoid that. She had a feeling these Snapes would not hesitate to use magic on her to retrieve the ring.

She wished she had a disillusionment spell. It would certainly come in handy right about now. Then she could access the tomb without being seen. She sighed. Wishful thinking was not going to make this any easier. Dusk was falling, and she began to look for a place to camp. She was very tired. The air was thinning and she wasn't used to it. She wished she had thought to ask Flitwick for a charm to counteract the effect. Again wishing wasn't going to help anything.

Hermione located a spot that would do, again near some trees and quickly set up camp. After making a fire, and preparing her tent by putting the warming stone and her sleeping bag inside, she and Raucous shared some of the jerky she had packed for the journey, then she turned in early. Tomorrow she would be completing her journey and wanted an early start in the morning. Raucous again took shelter in the boughs of a nearby tree. Both fell asleep quickly.

Several skinny wolves skulked along the path below Hermione's camp. Their fur was matted and their yellow eyes sharp with hunger. One particularly bony wolf snuffled the path, catching Hermione's scent. He growled, drawing the other wolves, which also sniffed about. They looked at each other, then ascended the mountain path, following the trail. They weren't sure what it is they were tracking but they were interested. It had been hard hunting lately with the unicorns on guard. The wolves primarily hunted the goats on the mountain, but the unicorns had been attacking them with regularity, driving them to lower ground, where the hunting was terrible. Only small rodents lived at the base of the mountain. They couldn't catch enough to fill their bellies.

It was difficult creeping back up the mountain undetected. Unicorns had an amazing sense of smell. They had to proceed at night, when the herd slept and hide in caves during the day. The animals were starved. Whatever creature left this scent, if they could find it and it wasn't a predator itself, they would bring it down.

It was a matter of survival.

* * *

The wolves quickly followed Hermione's trail to the campsite, and stealthily approached the tent, sniffing around it with interest. The something they wanted was in there. One wolf tested the tent with its paw…it was soft and moved. He affixed his teeth on the corner and pulled.

Inside the tent, Hermione was dimly aware of a disturbance, but merely shifted in her sleep. It was only when the tent jerked and ripped that she fully woke and saw the hole. She scrambled out of the sleeping bag just as Raucous sounded the alarm. She fished her flashlight out of her pack, and unzipped the flap, crawling out of the tent and standing up. The wolves had dropped back when the flap opened and now stood in a line, several meters away, measuring their prey. Hermione shined the light on five pairs of luminous eyes. The wolves began to growl. Whatever kind of animal this was, they were confident they could take it down.

Raucous dove at the wolves, attempting to scatter them. They did flinch, but didn't leave. One tried to snap the raven out of the air on his next dive and almost got him. He flew to Hermione's shoulder, raising hell at the wolves.

"Shit," Hermione thought as she carefully bent and picked up her sturdy wood staff that was lying next to the tent. She gripped it like a cricket bat and starting yelling at the wolves approaching them and swinging the staff back and forth in a broad arc. This was a mistake. She should have retreated towards the trees to protect her back. All she managed to do was get trapped in a circle as the wolves surrounded her just out of staff reach. She spun in a circle swinging the staff, trying to keep the starved animals off her, but desperation made the wolves courageous, and each would try to get closer when she spun with her back to it.

The ring began to warm on her finger. Hermione felt it but couldn't take the time to examine it. One wolf had rushed in and grabbed her trouser leg and she kicked at it. It held on a moment shaking it before releasing her. The others dipped in closer. Raucous still clung to her shoulder, screeching furiously at the wolves. It looked bad for both raven and witch. One wolf leaped for Hermione's face. She screamed and closed her eyes waiting for the fangs to rip into her. She heard a yelp, opened her eyes and saw the wolf writhing on the ground as if struck. The other wolves looked at it, but were so hungry they didn't back off. Another leaped at Hermione's back, knocking the witch to the ground, but again there was a yelp and the weight of the animal suddenly disappeared, and Hermione quickly scrambled to her feet.

That wolf was also writhing horribly, its teeth pulled back from its gums. The other three wolves were moving uncertainly now, shifting from paw to paw and whining as they looked at their companions. They didn't understand what was happening. The creature hadn't struck or bitten either of the fallen wolves, but they were down and apparently suffering greatly. Hermione, seeing the animals' indecision, rushed yelling at the other three wolves, swinging her staff and actually striking one. The wolf yelped in pain and fled. The other two wolves, on seeing their fleeing companion followed suit and raced off into the darkness, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

Hermione shined her flashlight on the writhing animals, and was horrified to see how thin they were. Even though the wolves had been trying to kill her, she could see that hunger was the driving force behind them. She felt sorry for the animals, and if she had her wand, she would have put them out of their misery. She had no idea what had happened to them.

"You poor things," she said, "I wish you weren't suffering so."

The moment the witch uttered that sentiment, both wolves stopped convulsing and jumped to their feet, their ears flattened and snarling at Hermione. Then they ran off after their fellow pack members, leaving the creature behind. It was too strong for them.

Hermione watched the wolves go with her mouth open. What had happened? She looked at the ring. The "S" was glowing slightly with a pulsing blue light. It slowly faded. The ring had protected her.

Snape watched Hermione's courageous attempt at battling the wolves. He couldn't understand why the ring was not working to protect the witch. It should have struck all the animals down. It had been known to zap men immediately when they threatened to attack. He saw the wolf leap and Hermione close her eyes. The Potions Master's stomach clenched. He was sure the animal was going to rip Hermione to pieces. Then the animal was flung back to the ground, and didn't get up again, but lay there shuddering as if in great pain. The same thing happened to the wolf that knocked the witch down. It was flung back to the ground, convulsing violently. He watched Hermione drive off the other three wolves, admiration gleaming in his black eyes. She was a brave little witch. Also a compassionate one. She expressed sympathy for the convulsing animals. Snape scowled. If he had been attacked, he would have found a large stone and bashed their furry heads in.

He thought about the ring's reaction to the animals. It could have been that the ring did not kill them outright because they were animals, starving animals, not men intent on killing. It only attacked the wolves that actually were going to do her bodily harm, disabling them by giving them great pain. The ring divined Hermione's desire that the animals not suffer, and released them. It was certainly an interesting magical item.

Snape watched as Hermione built a large fire and brought her sleeping bag out from the ruined tent, and stretched it out on the ground a short distance from the blaze. She laid the staff beside the sleeping bag and crawled back into it. Raucous had returned to the tree branch, but did not tuck his head for sleep. He remained silent, but watchful…his beady black eyes staring into the darkness, watchful for any motion. Snape could see Hermione doing the same thing, her amber eyes shifting as she looked into the darkness beyond the campfire. After about an hour, the witch fell asleep. Snape watched as the mist once again appeared, and spread through the image to surround him. She was dreaming again, and soon he would be in her presence. He felt the mist coalesce under his feet, giving him traction, and the feeling of space surround him. He began to walk, seeking Hermione out when the mist changed forming her campsite. She was there asleep in her bag.

The Professor walked over to her and knelt, studying her face in the firelight. She looked peaceful. Lovely. He wouldn't mind waking to that sleeping face and gently, but insistently urging her to consciousness in an unmistakable manner. He looked at her again, feeling a stirring. Maybe not so gently. He always knew Hermione was a determined witch, but he had not dreamed she would be so strong. Fighting off wolves. Most witches would have dissolved into weeping piles of terror, especially if they were wandless. Not her. She charged into the fray just the way she charged into her spell making, full throttle and never admitting defeat. His eyes softened a bit as she sighed and shifted. Suddenly, her amber eyes slowly opened, and looked up at him.

"Professor?" she said sleepily.

"Yes, Hermione. I am here," he said.

Hermione worked her way out of the bag, and the Professor helped her to her feet. She looked around, then back at him sharply.

"How is it you're at my campsite, Professor? Are you a ghost?" she asked him.

"This is a dream version of your campsite, Hermione. You are still asleep," Snape replied. He hadn't released her hand yet, reveling in its warmth and softness. "As to my being a ghost, I suppose I am close to it. But not too close. I was refused entrance to the land of light and love."

Hermione smirked at him.

"Now, why does that not surprise me?" she asked. Severus Snape in the land of light and love? The image of his dark visage scowling among dancing cherubs, rainbows and flowing cloudbanks almost made her dissolve into conniptions.

Snape frowned at her.

"I take it you don't think I qualified to enter such a realm," he said rather stiffly. "I assure you, Hermione that at this point in time I am definitely heaven material. It seems I pulled a 'save' by killing Voldemort. Removing his evil negated my own ample stores. I was refused entrance, Hermione because…"

Here he hesitated. Hermione frowned at him.

"Because what, Professor? Tell me," Hermione urged.

Snape looked at her.

"According to the powers that be, I'm not 'properly' dead yet," Snape replied.

Hermione's eyes widened. The Professor not dead?

"What does that mean?" she asked him, "If you're not dead, what are you?"

Snape smirked. "I imagine I am hanging in the balance, as it were," he replied, "Hopefully not for too much longer. You see, Hermione. I gave up my life to kill Voldemort, but only temporarily, at least that was my hope. Your purpose in going to my ancestral tomb is to revive me. To bring me back to the corporeal world."

Hermione stared at the Professor, her mouth wide open. After a few moments she managed to close it.

"You sent me on this journey to resurrect you, Professor?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said silkily.

Immediately, Hermione began to blush, thinking about her forward behavior in the first dream. The things she had admitted to him, the things they had done. She had only acted in that manner because she was sure the Professor was gone forever. If he came back…

"Oh my gods," Hermione breathed, buckling as if she were about to pass out. Her knees began to give. The Professor caught her, pulling her against his body. His black eyes looked down at her.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" he purred, holding her tightly. He knew she just realized that if he came back, things between them would be very different.

The witch looked up at him very aware of his closeness, his maleness.

"Professor…if you return, what will that mean? For us?" she asked him, her heart pounding.

His eyes blazed at her.

"Most likely it will mean that when we return to Hogwarts, and after all the excitement dies down, I will sweep you into my arms, carry you to my rooms, deflower you and become your lover," he replied softly.

Then Snape kissed Hermione, covering her mouth with his and sucking on her lips gently before invading her mouth with his probing, hungry tongue. Hermione responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her belly flaring with heat as a soft moan rose from deep inside her.

Snape gently pulled away from her lips, his eyes searching her face slowly as she sought his mouth again. He gave her a knowing smirk.

"And from your response to my kiss, I have a feeling you will welcome my other, more pointed attentions," he said, his voice a low growl. "There's so much I want to do to you, Hermione. You have no idea how much pleasure I will give you."

Hearing the passion and promise in his voice and feeling his hard, lean body pressed against hers, Hermione felt as if she could melt into a gooey, sticky lust-filled puddle.

"But first, you have to bring me back," he said, drawing away from her with an effort.

Hermione was all fire and urge. She had been through so much in the past three days, it would be wonderful to lose herself in this dream with the Professor. She wasn't sure she believed what the dream Professor was telling her, but his strong presence was arousing and comforting. She was so drawn to the wizard. She wanted her dream to go erotic very badly.

"Professor, I want to do something now. Anything. I'm stressed and I'm randy, and you're here, and you want me. I don't understand why you won't just let go when I'm so willing to be let go on," she said softly, looking into the wizard's dark eyes.

Snape looked into Hermione's desire-filled eyes. This was just what he needed. The young woman who had been the subject of his interest and lust for the past five years telling him what he always fantasized about hearing from her lips. That she wanted him to take her. Yep, he would be floating between life and death when his dream of Hermione being randy for him came true. That's just the way his life seemed to work most of the time. He sighed. It would be so easy to take the lovely, courageous, and willing witch on top of her sleeping bag by firelight. Snape was sorely tempted. Yet he still wasn't sure if deflowering Hermione in the world of her dreams would affect her virgin status in the real world. He was not a dream figment, no matter what the witch believed. He was a living, full-blooded wizard. His erection attested to that fact.

He continued to stare blankly at Hermione, who was watching him as if he were a hunk of chocolate and she had the worst sweet tooth in the world.

No. He couldn't do it. The unicorns were still roaming the mountain and could appear again. If she weren't a virgin, most likely Sewell would attempt kill her. The ring would protect her, but it would be better to keep the situation from happening at all.

"I can't, Hermione," he said to the witch, "There are circumstances that make it too risky for you."

"I'm willing to face the risks," Hermione said, moving into him again. He could feel the heat of her body through her clothing, and she was quaking with desire. Snape groaned. This wasn't remotely fair. She smelled of smoke and mountain air. Like a nymph who had walked through fire. He didn't find the scent unpleasant. It fit the setting.

"I'm not, Hermione. This is too important," he said, but he didn't push her away. She was molded to him and it felt good. Very good. It had been a long time since he held a woman this way. Also, he was grateful to Hermione. She had risked so much to fulfill his last request. He would love to show her his appreciation in a very physical way. Again 'no' popped into his head.

"Then at least kiss me again," Hermione breathed, pursing her lips and standing on her tiptoes.

Snape sighed, knowing he shouldn't do it, that he should try to return to the realm he occupied and let the witch return to her sleep, but he was too drawn to her, too moved by her desire for him to walk away from her. He lowered his head and kissed her again, tasting her heat and her lust, losing himself in it.

"Touch me," Hermione hissed into his mouth demandingly. He was going to do something other than just kiss her, damn it.

Her tone made the wizard respond, and Snape slid his hands down her back and around her sides, then lightly over her hips. Hermione began to caress him as well, running her hands over his back, lingering at the small of it, pulling him into her harder so she could feel his arousal. His hardness made her soaking wet, and she groaned against his lips. The Professor slid his hands over her hips and down the back of her thighs. That she let him touch her this way made his breath come quicker, and he slid his hands back up, slipping them under her shirt and feeling the softness and heat of her skin. That was a mistake, because the moment he touched her flesh, he went into automatic and deepened his kiss before slipping to her throat. Hermione was purring like a kitten as his soft lips moved over her neck. She had never felt anything so sensual, so wonderful. She wanted more contact.

"Professor," she groaned, "More, please."

Snape moved his hands around her waist, across her belly and up to her breasts. She wore a sports bra, and his palms slid over it, feeling the hard peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric. She hissed when he touched her breasts, encouraging him to massage and fondle them. Hermione began gasping in a very passionate way, and he pulled away from her throat to look at her. The witch's eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, her mouth parted, her lips glistening.

"Your hands feel so good," she half-purred, pressing into them before reaching under her shirt and pulling her bra up so she could feel his hands on her skin. Snape bit his lips as he grasped two handfuls of large firm breasts. She was a well-built little witch, and his tool was threatening to bust out of his trousers. He had to taste them. He pulled up her shirt, and wrapped one arm around her waist to support her as she leaned back, giving him access. He licked, sucked and kissed first one, then the other, his lips and tongue running over the round, firm flesh, feeling her fingers sifting through his hair, caressing him as she whispered encouragement. She ground her pelvis against his wantonly, needing, wanting more.

He couldn't possess her. He couldn't…but he could give her what she needed. With his other hand he undid the button of her trousers and slipped his hand inside, under her knickers and touched the moistness of her sex. Hermione buckled against his hand, her amber eyes going wide as he slipped a finger between her folds. He hissed and bit his lip at the heat and wetness of her pussy. He felt the stretch of skin that protected her entrance give a little beneath his fingertip and pulled away from it, instead rubbing her desire-swollen nub. Gods, she sounded beautiful as she looked. He watched her face as he manipulated her sex, holding her writhing body as her cries of pleasure increased. Gods he wanted to stick his throbbing member inside her, but continued to work her towards release. She came with a shriek, shuddering in his arms, her eyes rolling up as her orgasm hit her. The Professor groaned again, turned on almost beyond his limits as she arched against his hand, and he felt her release pour over his fingers.

"Damn," he breathed as she whimpered, pulling herself forward and resting against him as she came back to earth. He slowly removed his hand, and brought it to his nose. Yes, gods, in the dream realm even the release was real. He tasted the witch for the first time and his nostrils flared as he cleaned his hand, then looked down at Hermione, whose face was pressed into Snape's robes as she panted against him.

He needed to go.

"Hermione…I have to go. I can't stay," he said, his voice gravelly with desire. If I stay you will definitely lose your virginity to me.'

"No…don't go. Take my virginity," she moaned against him. Her hand moved to the huge bulge beneath his robe and began to rub him insistently. Shit!

Snape didn't know how to get out of the dream. He desperately pictured the starry realm and himself floating, trying to ignore the delicious feel of her hand rubbing his erection through his robes. He groaned and visualized harder. He felt himself lightening. There was no more contact. He was dissolving, the scenario was dimming. He was leaving her dream.

"No!" Hermione cried as he faded. She clutched desperately at him, her arms passing through his body. His eyes were intense as he looked at her.

"Tomorrow," he said as he faded from view, "Tomorrow you won't have to rely on dreams, Hermione. Go to the tomb. The ring will do the rest."

Then he was gone.

Hermione threw a small tantrum.

"Gods damn you, Professor!" she cried shaking her fist at the empty space he had occupied, and kicking at the earth. "And they say women are teases! McGonagal was right about you! Even from beyond the grave you're a bastard!"

Snape smirked as he watched the dream-witch curse him. Hell, he did what he could while letting her keep her virtue. And she was completely ungrateful. He was not a tease. It was Hermione who was the tease. All of that supple, willing flesh and he couldn't touch her. Just wait until he got back into corporeal form. He was going to shove himself so far into her sweet body that Hermione Granger wouldn't know where he ended and she began.

He looked down at his bulging robes as he drifted lazily in the void, wondering if it would upset the scheme of things terribly if he wanked off.

* * *

Dressed in her nightgown and robe, Shaaron approached the large, ornate doors of Vivaldi's bedroom. Her heart was in her throat, and she had no more tears left to cry. She hoped the wizard would be gentle, though the other female servants had told her it would be unlikely. Vivaldi believed in breaking in a virgin thoroughly. The idea of being the first man to have a woman excited him, and he claimed virgins fully so no other man could be the first to do anything that he hadn't already done.

It was impossible for her to flee the Manor due to its location, and even if she did, she had nowhere to go. The reason she came to the Manor was that her father died, and he was a poor man who left her nothing. Their home was a rental, and the landlord had let her stay several weeks before moving a new family in. She could not find work in the village, and did not want to become a prostitute. Ketri had found her on the beach, digging for clams when he told her she could go to the Manor. He was honest about what would be expected of her.

"If the Lord of the Manor wants you, Shaaron, you will be required to sleep with him. It's their way. But better one wizard a few times than a constant train of wizards day after day," he had said to her. And he was right. It was the lesser of a number of evils. Ketri kindly offered to rid her of her virgin status, but Shaaron refused him. Now, as she stood outside the Master's room, she wondered if she should have taken him up on his offer. Well, it was too late now. She knocked on the door.

A tired male voice answered her.

"Who is it?" Vivaldi groaned.

The wizard lay naked and exhausted, spread-eagled on the top of his sheets. He wore himself out on Venoma, who was recovering in her bedroom, aching, sore and satisfied. Vivaldi had been surprising and insatiable. He worked out seven years of lust for his half-sister in one afternoon. When his concubines came to keep him company, he turned the disappointed girls away, not even allowing them to just sleep with him. He knew the women. They might start out with good intentions, but sooner or later, the fingers would start creeping, and the lips, roaming. He had been awakened more than once with his member halfway down Handei's throat.

"It's Shaaron, my Lord," the servant girl said through the door, "I have come to you as you requested."

Vivaldi lay in the bed, and groaned. He couldn't handle anymore pussy today. Between the concubines last night and Venoma this afternoon, he doubted he had any come left. Plus his tool was sore.

"I release you from your duties tonight, Shaaron. Return to the servants' quarters. I will let you know when I want you in my bed," he called back.

"Yes, my Lord," Shaaron said, curtseying at the door even though Vivaldi couldn't see her. She almost slipped up and thanked him. That would have been a grave error to show she did not want him to take her. She hurried back to the servant's quarters, grateful for the reprieve. Maybe he would not want her for several months. He may have locked the setting room door, but there was no silencing spell. The entire staff knew he had spent the afternoon possessing his half-sister. This new development in the relationship of the Master and Mistress might free a few servants from Vivaldi's lustful ministrations. The newer servants were repulsed by the incestuous nature of the pair, but the ones who had been in the Manor the longest simply said it was the Snape way, and left it at that.

Vivaldi turned over on his back, threw his arms out, then scooted around in the bed trying to find a cool place on his sheets. He had to get some rest.

Tomorrow was a day of decisions.

* * *

Hermione woke up a bit later than she intended the next morning. She rolled over and sat up on her elbows, blinking up at the sun, which was rather high in the sky. Her mind flitted back to the dream she had the night before and she colored even as she felt a wave of heat wash over her. Such a lucid, erotic dream about the Potions Master. She wondered if she would continue to have them when she returned to Hogwarts. She hoped so. They were so much better than twiddling herself to orgasm. Maybe when she left the island her virginity was no longer an issue, the dream Snape would finally deflower her.

Hermione had convinced herself that her subconscious was the very creative source of her dreams about Snape, and her interludes with him were the result of their unconsummated relationship. She had never gotten the chance to explore a relationship with the Professor after he expressed his interest in her at the Final Battle, so her mind was creating scenarios where this was possible. Very detailed, juicy, erotic scenarios at that. It was wishful thinking that he could be brought back to her. Her heart hurt a little bit at that thought.

"Great, Hermione," she told herself, "Falling in love with a dead man. How pathetic is that?"

Hermione roused herself, wriggled out of her sleeping bag, and stood up stretching. Raucous flew down from the tree and landed on her shoulder, rasping a greeting and giving her hair a "good morning" preen before hopping down to her pack and standing next to it expectantly, pecking at the flap a little. Hermione took the tie out of her hair, shook it out, then rebound it. She sniffed herself. She didn't smell bad at all. It seemed the self-cleaning clothing also cleaned her body in the process. It made sense. It wouldn't do to have clean clothes on a dirty body. She looked at the back of her trouser leg, where the wolf had grabbed her. There was a rip. If she ever took another journey she would be sure to have a self-mending spell on her clothing too. She walked over to her pack, and to Raucous' chagrin, pulled out another pair of trousers. He complained.

"Just wait a minute Raucous. I need to change," Hermione said to the hungry bird. As an afterthought, she pulled out a pair of knickers too. Her underthings were also self-cleaning but after her dream experience with the Professor, she felt she needed to change them anyway, even if it were only symbolic. Hermione looked around as if to see if anyone were watching her, then hesitated. She moved into the trees anyway and slipped off her trousers and her knickers.

Actually, two sets of eyes were watching her.

The first set belonged to Ozmadias, who was sitting on an outcropping on the mountain, his cold golden eyes taking in everything the witch did. He had slept on and off during the night. She was easy to observe this time, since she slept by the fire. He watched with interest as the wolves attacked. She was a very brave witch, if a small one. He also saw that she slept quite fitfully by the campfire, tossing and turning. At one point she let out a cry. After that, she'd slept peacefully. The bird blinked down at her as she walked into the trees to dress. She didn't have far to go to reach the tomb. Only a couple of hours of hiking up the last part of the trail. She would come to a fork, one clearly leading to the Manor, the other leading to the tomb. He would report to his Mistress before she reached the top of the mountain.

The second set of black eyes belonged to the Potions Master. Snape watched as she walked into the trees, but she couldn't hide from him since the image was focused exactly on her. He could pull the view back or move it closer. As she slipped off her pants…he zoomed in. Hermione removed her knickers and he got another nice little peep show before she slipped the next pair on. Her neatly trimmed pubic hair was starting to grow in, as was the hair on her legs. His black eyes glittered. He didn't mind hair at all.

Today was the day the path of his life would be decided. Snape imagined if anything went wrong with his resurrection, the tunnel leading to the land of light would return to collect him. He hoped that didn't happen. Drifting in the void had made him appreciate the life he had, as constrained as it was. With Voldemort gone, he would be free to live as he pleased. He might even pursue a future with Hermione if she would have him. Settle down. Have a family of brilliant bushy-haired black-eyed children. He knew he would never tire of the witch. He had been smitten with her for the past five years and imagined five hundred more wouldn't change his attraction. Snape was a wizard who appreciated what little good came into his life, having been denied happiness for so long during his service to the Order. He would never forget what that was like. If Hermione accepted him, he would make sure she would always know she was loved. It would not be the candy and roses kind of love. Snape was not the candy and roses type. More than likely his affection would be expressed as the possessive, territorial, testosterone-driven "you're my woman" kind of love. He hoped she could handle that.

When Hermione came in his arms last night, his last vestiges of doubt melted just as she did. He was not a wizard to easily give his heart. He had protected it for years. But he had watched Hermione grow up from a little girl during her time at Hogwarts. Not only was she brilliant, but she was kind, fiercely loyal, compassionate, loving and forgiving. This was not her personality…this was her soul. That she desired him meant more than lust. Not to say that she didn't lust after him, because it was quite clear that she did, but she was not the kind of witch that differentiated between her physical and emotional desires. She would invest everything in her need for him. If she accepted him, she would love him, if she didn't already. He was sure of this. To have that kind of love from a woman used to be something he didn't even allow himself to dream of, not the way he lived his life. But now, he was a free man, which meant he was free to accept and to give love. He had denied himself too long.

Snape watched as the witch emerged from the trees and walked over to her pack and the screeching Raucous. He smirked as he looked at the bird. The familiar had shown more gumption than he ever imagined he could. Snape was sure that Raucous would choose to stay with the witch upon his return. He was fine with that. The raven had never seemed happier and had blossomed under the attention and love that Hermione gave him. Snape had never had time or the inclination to provide the bird with much companionship. Raucous had simply been a convenience, a tool, and in Hermione's case a form of entertainment. The bird certainly gave her hell when he was with the Potions Master. Raucous was probably aware of Snape's attraction to the witch and thought her a threat. Now the bird had fallen in love with her himself and was extremely protective of her. Yes, they were a good match. Much better than he and the Potions Master had been.

Hermione gave Raucous a strip of jerky, which the bird wrangled into a manageable position and holding it securely with one clawed foot, began to tear at the tough meat, ripping strips off it and swallowing them down quickly.

Hermione made sure that the campfire was completely extinguished, rolled up her sleeping bag and tied it to her pack. She retrieved the flashlight and the warming stone. The tent was ruined. The wolf had torn a piece out of it. Hermione left it where it was. She would just have to scrounge for shelter on the way back down. She had noticed crevices and caves in the mountainside on her way up. She was sure she could find a safe place to bed down on the return trip. The witch hoisted her pack on her shoulders, looked up the mountain path and took a deep breath. This was it. She was going to finish her journey. Raucous landed on her shoulder and gave her an encouraging caw. She looked at the bird.

"We're almost there Raucous. We'll be able to return home soon," she said, looking down at the ring. It had brought them here. Hopefully it would take them home.

"Let's go," Hermione said to Raucous.

The bird put on his best 'road' face, which looked exactly the same as all his other expressions to Hermione. She smiled at him and they set off up the mountainside at a good clip. They ought to reach the top in about three or four hours.

88888888888888888888

* * *

Vivaldi sipped his coffee and stared out the setting room window. He had to go to the tombs and lie in wait. He had decided to make Venoma stay in the Manor, to keep her out of the equation. Instead, he planned to take a contingent of male servants. He had spoken to them this morning, and promised to have a few prostitutes brought up to the Manor for a reward for their service. This met with much approval, and quite a few men volunteered to assist him. He would have ordered their assistance otherwise, so it was best to appear willing.

Vivaldi would use his servants to approach the witch and try to get the ring. But he had one other backup plan that still kept him out of harm's way in case they failed. Vivaldi wasn't a coward, but he didn't believe in taking unnecessary risks. He didn't know how the ring would respond to an attack on Snape's messenger. He was a wizard who preferred to know what he was up against, and he had a strong sense of self-preservation. He would like to have the ring, but he had lived this long without it, and recently had re-established himself as the Lord of the Manor and Master of all who lived within its confines. But Venoma was right. He had to at least attempt to get the ring. If he failed, at least he would have tried.

"Good morning, brother," a low voice greeted him. He didn't turn around.

Vivaldi felt his half-sister's arms slip around his waist, and her slim body press against his back. He was very familiar with every inch of that body now, inside and out. He had left no part of it untouched. He felt Venoma press her lips to his throat, and smiled a little. The wizard took her hands from around his waist and turned to her, his black eyes sweeping over her. She had that sloe-eyed look that his concubines wore. She was completely taken by him now. Total domination had that kind of effect on some women. Venoma was one of those women.

The witch took an occasional lover from among the servants every now and then to relieve her urges. But the men, although they performed adequately would never let loose on their Mistress, because of her position. They took her with a kind of fear that they would be punished if they were too rough or too demanding and she had to direct them to do the things she wanted. Her half-brother was the first to take her without hesitation and had done things to her in ways no servant ever had. He talked to her when he took her, said things no servant would ever dare say as he took her. Dirty things. And it had excited her. Venoma suspected she had more earth-shattering orgasms in one afternoon than she had in her whole life.

Venoma had never known Vivaldi was capable of such strength. He had seemed so gentle, composing love songs, strumming his lyre and singing to her with soft longing in his sweet tenor voice. Venoma had perceived her half-brother as being weak. Not strong like the wizards that came before him, but more like an adoring puppy anxious to roll over whenever she commanded it, willing to do anything to please her. But the young wizard had finally shown her without a doubt he was cut from the same cloth as the tyrants before him. All she had to do was release the Snape genes in him by insulting him and questioning his manhood. Well, Vivaldi had shown her over and over he was definitely a man. A very virile one as well.

Vivaldi kissed his sister's hand, black eyes locking with black eyes.

"Good morning, sister," he purred, "I trust you slept well?"

"Like the dead, my brother," she replied, kissing him quite passionately.

Vivaldi pulled away, treating her like he would treat his overzealous concubines. Now that he had taken Venoma and the mystery was no longer there, he could handle her. She no longer had the power to bring him to his knees with lust and longing. He could have her when he wanted her now. He had tamed the shrew.

"Summon Ozmadias. I want to know the witch's progress," he commanded his sister. There was no longer need for the niceties of "please, sister" or "would you please?" His commands would be obeyed without question.

"Yes, my Lord," Venoma breathed.

She placed her pale fingers to her temple and summoned her familiar as Vivaldi opened the window, searching the sky expectantly. Soon he saw a speck approaching, growing larger. He stepped back from the window as Ozmadias squeezed his bulk on to the sill. Venoma approached him, and stroked his crest. The bird looked at her, sensing a change in her demeanor. She no longer felt dominant. He blinked at Venoma curiously, and subtly searched his mistress' mind as he sent her his images of Hermione. Ah, the wizard had mated with her and broken her. Well, that might make life a little easier on Ozmadias. He looked over at the wizard. He too felt different. More like the old ones. That was good too.

"The witch is almost at the tombs, Vivaldi," Venoma said, "We should go now and set up an ambush."

Vivaldi looked at Venoma coolly.

"There will be no 'we' Venoma," he said, leveling his eyes at her. "I have decided to remove you from the equation. It will be difficult enough getting the ring without worrying about your motives. I have decided it would be in my best interests for you to remain in the Manor while I see about the witch. That way there will be no 'accidents'"

"But…Vivaldi, I want to help," Venoma said, her eyes pleading.

Vivaldi snorted.

"I don't need or want your kind of help, sister. You are beautiful outside, but I know what beast lies within. You are a Snape too. And have the aspirations of a Snape. You would rule my Manor if you could, ousting or possibly killing me."

Venoma started to protest this. Vivaldi held up his hand, silencing her.

"Don't try to tell me otherwise, Venoma. You are staying here, under guard. If you injure any of my servants, you will pay dearly," he snarled at her. "You will obey me in this matter. Do I make myself clear, sister?"

Venoma stared at him insolently for a moment, then dropped her eyes, defeated.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered.

"Good. All I ask is that you continue to give me the respect due to the Lord of the Manor, sister, and your life here with me will be rewarding. You may still run the Manor as you wish. But you will attend me when I want you."

Vivaldi looked at her and his eyes softened somewhat.

"It may be, sister, that I will be unable to get the ring. If that is the case, then I will not be able to acquire a Snape bride from the outside, and we must keep our bloodline pure," he said, his black eyes falling to her belly. "In the event this happens, you will have to be the one to bear my heirs. As my wife and the mother of my children, your place in the Manor will be secured, and you will have greater freedom and power as well as a greater place in my heart. So obey me, Venoma. Give me no reason to harm you, sister," he said, taking the witch's hand and kissing it tenderly.

"Yes, my Lord," Venoma replied, even as she was mulling his words over. It would actually be in her best interest for him not to acquire the ring. As his wife, she would almost have equal power in the Manor. All she ever wanted was power.

Vivaldi let go of her hand and walked to the setting room door.

"You stay here," he said, "The servants will be outside these doors with orders not to let you leave until I return. Behave, my sister."

The wizard exited the rooms closing the door behind him.

Ozmadias watched the exchange with interest. Yes, power had definitely shifted hands in the Manor. Venoma looked at him.

"Go my pet. Watch and show me all that happens," Venoma said to the bird, stroking his crest once more. Ozmadias met her dark eyes, then nuzzled her hand. He liked the softer Venoma. He dropped out of the window and flew for the tombs.

* * *

Hermione stood at the fork in the road. There was a great outcrop of stone separating the forks. It was topped with boulders. To the left lay Snape Manor, an impressive edifice of stone, built more like a fortress than a mansion, with a gated portico and small rectangular windows that looked as if arrows would be shot out of them. Higher up she could make out glass windows and a sentry tower but couldn't tell if anyone was in it. She looked at the path to the right. It swerved around the outcropping and she couldn't see beyond the curve. Sparse brush and thin trees lined one side of trail. She took the right path heading for the tombs.

Vivaldi peeked down at the witch from the top of the outcropping. She certainly was a strange looking woman. Her hair was light brown and her eyes seemed to be gold. She was very small too. Not much bigger than a child of twelve or thirteen. But there was no mistaking her for a child. She had very feminine attributes, even if her strange clothing covered them. A black bird rode on her shoulder. Probably her familiar. Vivaldi turned to the group of wizards standing behind him. They were all servants from the Manor, twelve in all. They stood at attention as they watched their Lord and Master turn to address them.

"A witch is heading for the tombs," Vivaldi said to the men. "She has something that belongs to me in her possession. A ring with the letter 'S' on it, made from onyx. She is wearing it on her right hand. I want this ring returned to me. The man who actually plucks the ring from her finger may ask a boon of me, which I will grant if it is in my power."

The men murmured among themselves. A boon. They could ask Vivaldi for anything and he would be honor-bound to deliver it. However, the servants were shrewd, they knew not to ask for anything that would anger him. He might give it, then kill the servant afterwards…they had never seen Vivaldi do this, but other Snapes before him had. They noticed the change in the young wizard's demeanor. His look was blacker, more intense. His bearing was that of a leader, a ruler. There had been whispers that the real Lord of the Manor was Venoma, but those rumors had been quickly quashed today when Vivaldi called them to service. The command in his voice and stance let them know quickly he was a wizard to be obeyed.

"Yes, my Lord," came a dozen replies.

"She is walking to the tomb now. Intercept her at the tomb itself before she enters. It is not necessary to harm her, but if she resists, do what you need to do to retrieve the ring," Vivaldi instructed. "And I don't care what happens. If any of you flee, I will blast you myself."

The servants blanched at this. They knew their Lord wasn't making an idle threat. They had to get that ring.

"Go. She approaches," Vivaldi commanded the men. They all filed down the outcrop and turned to the left, headed for the tomb. Vivaldi watched them go.

He had a grudging respect for the witch. No one had made it up the mountain by foot in generations. Not even a Snape could take the mountain path without triggering its defenses. Whoever she was, Severus has chose wisely. She had done her best for him. What kind of man inspired such loyalty in others? Vivaldi's servants served him out of need and out of fear. He didn't delude himself that they were loyal to him. No matter. As long as they did what he commanded, he was fine with them.

Ozmadias settled on a Manor turret, watching the scene unfold. He saw Hermione approaching the tomb and the contingent of servants rounding the path. This should be interesting.

* * *

The first thing Hermione noticed was all signs of vegetation vanished. Nothing but stone lined the path now. Ahead of her was a face of rock, and in that face was a large black double door. It looked like it weighed a ton. The letter "S" was emblazoned on it in silver or white gold.. Hermione slipped her pack off and walked a bit closer to examine it. The door was overlaid with onyx and had no handle. Even if it did, she would not be able to pull the heavy stone open. She ran her fingers over the seam and felt a small indentation. She looked at it closer. It was a keyhole, a very small one. The Professor did not give her a key. How was she supposed to open the doors? She looked around. Piles of stones lay on either side of the great doors. She walked over to a pile and began to push on the stones, hoping to trigger the doors. Nothing happened. Suddenly Raucous let out a warning cry. Hermione spun and grabbed her staff, looking around.

A group of Lemurians approached, their brown eyes focused on her. The men stopped about thirty meters away.

"We have come for our Master's ring," one of the wizards said, "Give it to us and there will be no problems."

Hermione scowled at them. So, the Lord of the Manor sent his goons after her to get her ring. Well, no way.

"This ring was given to me by its rightful owner, Severus Snape. It does not belong to your Master," she retorted.

The men seemed surprised by this news and talked among themselves. Above them, Vivaldi watched the confrontation. He felt a bit uncomfortable at her statement. Still she was not a Snape. The ring should stay in the family.

The Lemurian turned back to her.

"The ring belongs to our Master. Give it to us, or we will take it by force," the man said, frowning at her. She was a small witch and didn't look very powerful. Suddenly something black dove at his face and he ducked. Raucous had taken a dive at him.

"Raucous! Get over here!" Hermione hissed.

Raucous was ready to fight. He flew to Hermione's shoulder and glared at the group of men threatening her. If he had hands…

"I will not give you this ring," Hermione said firmly. "I am here to fulfill the last wishes of a member of the House of Snape. You dishonor his memory by attempting to hinder me."

The men murmured among themselves again.

Vivaldi scowled at all the unnecessary conversation. They should just go for the ring.

The men ceased talking. Their Lord had given them orders and they would fulfill him.

"If you will not give us the ring, then we will take it," the man said, walking forward towards Hermione, who got a good grip on her staff and brought it to her shoulder, ready to take a swing. The wizard paused, then wriggled his fingers at her. The staff began to try to fly toward him. Hermione tried to hold on to it, but it dragged her toward the Lemurian. Finally she let it go and it flew to him. He caught it, and grinned at her. He dropped it on the ground and walked toward her.

"Look," he said, "I don't want to hurt you, but I need to get that ring. Now take it off, or I will have to remove it."

"No," Hermione said, backing up against the double doors and looking around for a weapon. Her eyes fell on several small stones. She picked them up and started throwing them at the wizard, who threw up his arms and kept approaching her. One rock got through, hitting him in the forehead. He stopped and rubbed his head, scowling at her. Then he started walking toward her with purpose, an angry frown on his face.

Raucous, unable to stand it any longer, flew straight at the wizard. But the wizard was fast and managed to grab hold of the bird, slamming him to the ground. Raucous was dazed and flapped ineffectively, unable to get up.

"Raucous!" Hermione screamed. She was so upset, she failed to see the ring had started to glow.

* * *

The angry servant approached Hermione, who tried to run around him to retrieve her fallen familiar. He caught her by the arm and flung her roughly back against the onyx doors.

"Now give me the damn ring!" he roared at the witch, holding out his hand. Hermione glared at him defiantly.

"No!" she said, taking a swing at him. The Lemurian caught her wrist and twisted it behind her back. It was her ring hand. He started to remove the piece of jewelry from her finger.

"I wouldn't touch it if I were you," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "The last wizard who touched it said it bit him, and then disappeared. No one could find him. You want that to happen to you?"

The servant hesitated.

"You lie!" he hissed.

"All right. Go ahead then, try to take it," Hermione breathed.

The servant hesitated again, then gripped the ring gently with his thumb and forefinger, wincing a bit. Nothing happened.

"It seems your ring has lost its teeth, witch," he gloated. He began to twist the ring. Hermione crooked her finger to impede the ring's removal. The servant pulled on her twisted arm, making her cry out.

"Stop resisting," he grunted.

He pulled on the ring, and suddenly started to tremble violently, releasing Hermione. Then the man was thrown back several meters, landing at the feet of his companions, unconscious.

Another of the servants knelt to check him. He placed his ear against his chest.

"He still lives," he said to the others. None of the servants were sure what happened. They all looked at Hermione, anger on their faces.

"Let's charge her," one servant whispered, "she can't get all of us." The rest agreed.

Hermione felt her ring become extremely warm on her finger. Warmer than it ever had before. It began to glow. Hermione hid it behind her back. If it were going to do something she didn't want to let the men know. Let them be taken by surprise.

The servants suddenly charged her. Raucous was still on the ground in front of them. The bird was about to be trampled to death.

"Raucous!" Hermione screamed, so afraid for the bird she thought nothing of herself.

As the wizards charged, a tendril of blue light flashed from behind Hermione's back, wrapped around Raucous and pulled him out of the path of the charging servants. Once the bird was clear the light increased in glow, moving forward independent of the ring and shielding Hermione from the onrushing wizards. The servants skidded to a stop a mere couple of meters from the sheet of energy that pulsated before the witch. They watched in open-mouthed horror as the light coalesced and lengthened, taking on an enormous solid, sinuous shape. Suddenly they were facing a huge blue serpent, balancing on its upper body high above them, the rest of its body coiled beneath it, its cold black eyes staring down at them. It opened its mouth revealing huge curved fangs and hissed at them.

From the outcropping, Vivaldi stared down in awe. The Guardian had manifested itself for the witch. This was impossible. The Guardian only came to the aid of Snape family members. Who was this witch? She was no Snape. He watched as the wizards began to back up and the great snake slid forward, following them.

Hermione stared at the snake in awe as it slunk forward toward the contingent of wizards. It was so large it could probably consume all of them. She wanted the men away from her, but she didn't want them to die. The snake stopped and turned back to look at her. It blinked its black eyes and nodded. Hermione couldn't move. The snake turned back to the men.

Suddenly the head of the snake shot forward, its blunt nose striking a wizard, knocking him back several meters. Then it struck another and another of the screaming men with powerful head blows, assaulting the wizards, knocking them left and right. The men scrambled to their feet, holding themselves painfully and fled from the tombs without looking back. The Guardian had driven them off without taking a single life.

The snake turned around and slid toward Hermione, who was frozen in place. It lowered its head until it was level with the witch, and flicked its tongue out, tasting her face. To Hermione it felt as if someone had brushed her cheek with a feather. Then the serpent nodded to her again, and diffused into blue light, which rushed back into the ring with a roar of wind. All was silent again. Hermione stared down at the ring in amazement.

From the outcropping above her, Vivaldi stared down at the witch, his mind working furiously. The Guardian was gone and she was currently unprotected. Time for his backup plan. A large boulder stood next to him. Vivaldi moved to the stone and pushed on it with all his strength. It would crush the witch against the tomb doors and he could retrieve the ring. The boulder resisted at first, but the wizard applied all his strength to it, and the great stone toppled off the edge of the outcropping, hit the ground heavily and rolled toward a startled Hermione. The witch was so shocked she couldn't move. Raucous, who was beginning to get his bearings, saw the boulder fall and cawed weakly at Hermione, trying to warn her to get out of the way. The great stone rumbled toward her. She was trapped in its path.

Suddenly a blue flash emitted from the ring, blasting the stone into powder. The entire area, including Hermione and Raucous was covered in the fine dust.

Vivaldi cursed and then beat a hasty retreat, half running, half sliding down the outcropping. He had seen the power of the ring was with the witch, and he wasn't going to fuck with it again. She could keep the cursed thing. Acquiring it wasn't worth losing his life over. The Snape family had survived fine without it for several generations. They could continue to do so. Severus wanted her to have it, and obviously the ring was linked with the witch. The wizard didn't have the power to break that link.

Vivaldi headed back to the Manor. Let her do what she came to do and get the hell off his mountain. He had enough.

Ozmadias observed the wizard fleeing the scene, his cold gold eyes following him. The familiar thought it a wise act. He was no match for the witch's ring. He continued to watch, curious to see the final outcome of the witch's journey.

Hermione ran over to Raucous and picked him up gently off the ground, brushing the boulder dust from his black feathers as best she could. The bird looked up at her, then sneezed.

"Are you all right Raucous?" she asked the bird, holding him tenderly against her body.

Raucous let out an exaggerated caw of weakness, and snuggled against her breasts. Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. He looked up, blinking at her with his beady eyes.

"That was brave of you, Raucous, trying to take on that wizard," she said softly, "foolish but brave. Thank you."

Raucous cawed a welcome then struggled to right himself in her arms. He succeeded. He was recovering. Luckily nothing was broken when he was slammed to the ground. He was only stunned by the impact. Hermione set him on the ground and attempted to brush the dust from her clothing. She was covered from head to toe in fine brown dirt. She did her best, but remained soiled. She stood there, looking down at herself.

"What a mess," she sighed.

Suddenly, the dirt began to fade, the color of her clothing brightening. After a minute or so, she was spotless. Ah, the self-cleaning charm. Even her hair was clean. Yes! Raucous looked up at her approvingly, before setting to work preening and shaking the dust from his black feathers

Hermione turned back toward the tomb doors, wondering how she was going to get them open.

"You didn't leave instructions, Professor," she breathed, her amber eyes sweeping over the enormous doors. "How am I going to get in here?'

The ring began to warm again, and a thin beam of blue light shot out of it and directly into the keyhole. Hermione heard a heavy click, then a thump, then a ponderous dragging sound. She stepped back as the doors slowly swung open with a rumble. The ring had granted her access. Hermione opened her pack and pulled out the fabric wrapped box, removed the cloth and held it in her hand. The box was warm and pulsing as if it were alive. She got a strange feeling in her belly as she remembered what the dream Professor had said. That she was sent here to resurrect him.

Hermione initially believed his claim was only part of a dream generated by her wishful subconscious, but now…holding the pulsating box in her hand, she wondered if what she experienced was truly a dream. Did she dare hope it was something more?

Hermione looked down at Raucous.

"We've almost completed our journey, Raucous. Come on, let's finish this," she said.

Raucous fluttered up to her shoulder, peering into the tomb. He cawed as something caught his eye. Hermione stepped closer to the doors also peering in. She froze.

"What is that?" she asked, cautiously walking forward and entering the tomb.

* * *

A/N: All right. The guardian showed up and rescued both Raucous and Hermione. Vivaldi beat a hasty retreat. Smart wizard. I just couldn't bring myself to kill the wizard off since he had just asserted himself as Lord of the Manor. He's squicky but hot. Also his death would have resulted in the Hourse of Snape on Mu dying out. We need villains. lol Now Hermione is entering the tomb. Obviously something strange is in there. Wonder what it is? Hmm. Guess we'll find out next chapter. Please review. 


	3. Final Chapter

**The Ring Final Chapter**

Hermione stopped as she passed through the doors, then returned to her pack outside and retrieved her flashlight. She again passed through the doors, Raucous on her shoulder. The open entrance allowed some light to enter into the tomb. The air was stale, though fresh air was entering slowly. Hermione felt a sense of disquiet as she entered the tomb. The main chamber was circular, and opposite the entryway there were doors carved into the bedrock that led to tunnels that wound throughout the mountain forming a great labyrinth. To the right was a chamber that contained stone benches and a large stone table. The tattered remains of cushions rested on the benches. The walls themselves had strange writing all over them, and images similar to hieroglyphics. Serpents were featured prominently in the drawings, many with wings.

In the center of the chamber was a raised circular dais of stone. Carved into the sides of it were images of serpents and skulls. It was to this dais and the object that floated freely above it that Hermione's eyes were drawn. At first it appeared to be a glowing blue orb, the same hue as the blue light that emitted from the ring. Hermione drew closer and saw it wasn't an orb, but a multifaceted blue crystal. She could feel waves of powerful energy flowing off it, and began to back away when the box in her hand gave a furious pulse and seemed to pull toward the crystal.

Raucous felt the pulse of power and flew from Hermione's shoulder. He glided to the chamber room and stood on one of the stone benches, observing her silently, his beady eyes fixed on the box in her hand.

Hermione drew the box back to test if it was indeed moving toward the crystal. It was. Hermione inched forward and placed the box on the dais. The moment she let it go, the pulsating box slid by itself across the stone and centered itself beneath the glowing gem.

In the void, Snape was watching the scene unfold before him, Hermione standing before the dais colored blue by the crystal, watching the black box pulsing beneath the gem. It wouldn't be long now. His heart was pounding and the Potions Master was beginning to feel a powerful pressure around his body.

Hermione stared at the box pulsing beneath the crystal. Suddenly the ring heated up, and a beam of blue light shot from it, hitting the onyx box. The cube began to ripple and flow, the corners melting into smoothness, the top hollowing out, revealing something pale in the interior. Hermione watched as the box became a small bowl containing what looked like ash. The ring's beam ceased, and the band pulsed on her finger tightly, hurting her. She looked down at it, and the "S" shaped stone twisted open, revealing a small cavity behind it. Inside the cavity was a crimson liquid. Hermione carefully raised the ring to her nose, and smelled the slight metallic scent of fresh blood.

"Pour the blood on the ashes, Hermione," Snape breathed, watching the witch. She was smart enough to figure this out. "The blood is the life, pour it on the ashes. The ashes, Hermione."

_The ashes._

Hermione looked around sharply. She had distinctly heard a silken voice say "the ashes." It sounded like the Professor's voice. Hermione looked at the blood inside the ring and made the connection. She carefully removed the ring and leaned over the dais, reaching for the bowl. She tipped the ring so the few precious drops of blood fell directly on the ash. Suddenly the ring flew out of her hand and rotated over the bowl beneath the crystal. Hermione watched as a stream of light no wider than a finger passed from the bottom of the gem, through the ring and into the bowl of ash and blood. A low hum began as the light connected with the ash.

Snape felt a tremor pass through him, then a great burning pain washed over him, golden light erupting from his body. The Potions Master writhed and screamed in agony, his voice echoing through the void impossibly loud, shaking the stars from the sky. They began to fall, streaking downward as he contorted, spinning in place as the golden flames flared outward. The spell he had cast to kill himself and Voldemort was reversing. Whereas he had felt little pain when he died, because it was a quick burst that reduced him instantly to ash, he now experienced the full force of the spell. Snape was dimly aware through his haze of pain of a powerful downward pull, the space around him fading to grayness as he fell like a blazing star himself.

Hermione watched as the bowl and the ring both lifted and floated past her, then settled on the stone floor before the dais, pulsing. She heard a great roar and looked upward, covering her ears against the noise and watched fascinated as a swirling mist appeared above the objects. It spun faster and faster, flattening into a disk. A dot of darkness appeared in the center and slowly spread. Hermione realized the dot was actually a hole that was opening wider and wider until the disk was gone and all the remained was an opening, floating in space. She could see what looked like falling stars as she looked up into the rift. Suddenly a streak of golden light fell through the hole, funneling through the ring and into the bowl of ash. Once again the bowl began to undulate, shifting shape, this time the gray ash forming a cylinder that expanded into a tall, thin, pale column, the blackness of the bowl flowing upward with partially covering it.

The column widened, then split partially up its length. Two tendrils erupted from the sides of it. The blackness of the bowl immediately covered these extremities, and flowed partially over the top of the column, which was quickly swelling like a balloon. Hermione thought it looked like a stick figure. Then she realized that the extremities were becoming defined, the ends of the tendrils splitting into five digits, the balloonish top developing angles, indentations and a large protuberance in the center. The black covering was separating into parts, the top becoming silken strands, long and flowing, the bottom staying in one piece, also long and flowing.

Hermione watched as the column transformed into the figure and visage of someone very familiar, someone she never dreamed she'd see in life again. The face was well defined now, the black hair flowing to the shoulders. A black robe draped the body, pale hands hanging loosely by its sides. The face was relaxed, the eyes closed. The hole above collapsed upon itself and disappeared, leaving Severus Snape standing in its wake.

Hermione stared at the reformed body of the Potions Master. The wizard stood there, his eyes closed. He was still as a statue, stiff and unmoving. Hermione took a cautious step toward him. Was this really Professor Snape or some kind of construct…maybe a golem?

"Professor?" she called to him, staying just out of arm's reach. He didn't respond.

"Professor!" she called louder. There was still no response, no sign of life. He was very pale…paler than usual. Actually, he looked dead on his feet.

Hermione took a deep breath and walked up to him, touching his hand. It was cold as ice. There was no life in the body. Hermione realized that what she had dreamed was actually the truth. That she had been sent to resurrect Severus, but it seemed although she brought his body back, she had not retrieved his soul. Her amber eyes filled with tears. She had come so close. Her lip trembled. She drew closer.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she breathed, tears starting to fall. She almost had him, almost brought him back. "I've failed you." Hermione stood on her tiptoes and kissed the cold, pale cheek.

Suddenly the Professor gasped loudly, drawing air into his lungs, his gray, cold skin taking on color. Hermione gave a little shriek and stumbled back from him as his stiff body relaxed somewhat and his dark eyes opened. He was breathing heavily as if trying to draw in as much air as possible. Snape bent over slightly, placing his hands on his knees as he panted. He turned his head to look at her, still gasping slightly. Hermione noticed that the ring now rested on his finger.

"Well Miss Granger," he panted, "I knew your kiss had an arousing effect on me. I just didn't realize how much."

Hermione just stared at him, her mouth open. She was too stunned to speak.

Snape straightened and felt himself all over.

"I seem to be all here," he stated, his black eyes fixed on the witch.

He took a step toward her, and Hermione backed away from him as if he were a ghost. She was used to ghosts, but this was a bit much. This was a walking dead man. That was far more unnatural than a ghost.

Snape stopped, and scowled at her.

"Miss Granger, after all I've been through, this is not the reception I hoped to receive from you upon returning to the world of the living. Close your mouth. You look like a fish," he said snarkily.

Hermione relaxed a bit upon hearing this. It was the Professor all right.

Raucous let out a joyous caw and flew to the Professor's shoulder, preening his hair frantically between squawks.

"Hello, Raucous," the Professor said, reaching up to stroke the bird's feathers.

If Hermione had any doubts as to the reality of the wizard in front of her, Raucous' reaction dispelled them. The bird would know its former Master anywhere. She found her voice.

"Professor. How?" she asked him. "How did you manage this? No one comes back from the dead."

He looked at her and realized he had fallen back into the habit of addressing her formally. That wouldn't do...not after the intimacy they had shared. He corrected himself.

"Yes, that's true Hermione, but I wasn't dead. My life was in the blood, and sustained by the power of the ring. It acted as a stasis spell, suspending time and not allowing the blood to die as long as it was concealed inside the hollow. It kept me grounded to the corporeal world. As long as part of me lived, there was hope I could return."

He pointed at the glowing crystal.

"That," he said, "Is a crystal from the land of Atlantis. It has the ability to restore any item placed under it to its original state, providing that it was functioning properly when it was destroyed. It cannot bring the dead back to life under normal circumstances, because the spirit of life is usually fully departed. When you added my living blood to the ash of my body, you gave it the component it needed to restore me. My ancestor placed the gem here in the tomb when it became a source of feuding and bloodshed between the families. The only one who could access the tomb and the crystal was a Snape wearing the ring."

Hermione looked at him.

"But I'm not a Snape," said Hermione, leveling her amber eyes at him steadily. She couldn't believe he was really here. "Why did the ring work for me?"

The Professor smirked at her.

"The ring is an amazing instrument. It doesn't operate in the realm of linear time. Past, present and future are all one to it," he said obliquely.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Talk sense, Professor," Hermione said, scowling at him.

Snape looked at her, his dark eyes intense as they swept over her. Hermione felt a small burst of warmth in her belly at the way his eyes seemed to devour her. The wizard met her gaze.

"What I am trying to say Hermione, is that while you aren't a Snape presently…you will be," he said, a low, rather possessive growl in his voice.

* * *

Hermione stared at the wizard, her mouth dropping open again. 

"Me? A Snape?" she said, her voice sounding odd to her own ears.

"You. A Snape. My wife to be exact," Snape replied.

"But…but…" Hermione stammered. The wizard stepped closer to her and placed one finger on her lips to quiet her. His voice was low.

"It is already established, Hermione. The ring is infallible when it comes to Snapes. You will marry me," the Potions Master said with finality. As far as he was concerned it was a done deal.

"But, suppose I don't want to marry you?" Hermione asked him, feeling a bit defiant at the Professor's claim. He had some nerve being so confident that she would accept his name.

Snape looked at her, his eyes glittering.

"After I get you into my bed Hermione, I guarantee you won't want any other wizard but me," he breathed.

Hermione, still trying to maintain control over her destiny despite the growing wetness between her thighs, started to say something else, something that wasn't true. Snape stopped her.

"I warn you, Hermione…be careful what comes out of that lovely little mouth of yours. If you try to deny that you want me, I will be forced to prove that you do. As much as I want to bury myself in your delicious body and show you exactly how much I desire you, I would prefer to deflower you in my bed back at Hogwarts in a more respectful and reverent manner, rather than taking you up against the wall of a dusty tomb in an uncontrollable burst of animal lust. So if you were about to deny your feelings for me…don't."

The Professor looked at her hungrily, his pale face set, half wanting her to go ahead and say she didn't desire him. He could see the need in her eyes already. Being back in a physical body was heady. He could almost feel the blood circulating through his veins. He was definitely feeling it flowing into his member. Taking her would be very satisfying.

Hermione saw the look in Snape's eyes and knew he meant what he said. If he even touched her, she would lose it. She wouldn't be able to stop. As much as she wanted to experience his passion, she really didn't want her first time to be in a tomb. So she swallowed down the denial she was about to spout and instead said softly, "All right, Professor…I won't."

She thought he looked a bit disappointed. She decided it would be best to get off this topic.

"Everyone will be so happy to see you, Professor," she said brightly.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"So I take it my reported death has succeeded in turning my rather detestable memory into a kinder, more lovable wizard in the eyes of the wizarding world?" he said to her sarcastically. "Only such an inane and erroneous perception would make anyone happy to see me."

Hermione blanched a little. The fact was the loss of the Professor was only mourned by a handful of people. Albus, Minerva, Flitwick and a few Order members like Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. Remus had also expressed sorrow. Ronald Weasley would have gladly danced on the Professor's grave, if he had one.

"Well, maybe not everyone, Professor. But no one is aware of what you've done for the wizarding world when you killed Voldemort. Once they know that…" she began.

"I will be deluged by well-wishers and simpering Ministry officials. The media won't leave me alone, and I won't be able to move about freely in public or have a private life. I don't think so, Hermione. Only a select few will know what I've done. I am a free wizard now. I don't want to be curtailed by becoming a public figure," Snape said.

"But Professor, you're a hero! You've single-handedly removed the most dangerous wizard in existence from the face of the earth. People should know this. You should be rewarded for your service," she breathed looking up at him. Snape gave her a grim little smile.

"You are the only reward I want, Hermione," he said. "I would not be adverse to you showing me your 'appreciation' for my heroic deeds. As for everyone else…the hell with them. Let the death of Voldemort remain a mystery."

Hermione looked at the Professor. He was such a brave wizard. A hero. She remembered him charging through the final battle with his sword in his hand, covered in blood. The Professor could have used just his magic to fight, it was certainly sufficient, but he chose to use a sword to bring himself into close contact and commit physical violence against the enemy. In addition to being a brilliant man, he was dangerous, dark and bloodthirsty. But he had shown her another side of him, one she was sure not many knew about. His hot-blooded, passionate side. Standing here black-robed, black-eyed, and black-haired, staring down at her, the Professor just reeked masculinity, maleness, power and sex, sex, sex. Hermione had to admit that knowing the wizard that rid the world of Voldemort wanted her was a very big turn on. And he didn't want her as a passing pleasure. He wanted her forever.

Gods, she was back to this again.

Snape watched Hermione closely, drinking in the way the witch's eyes expressed her emotions. He would love looking into those amber orbs when he finally took her. They were like twin suns when she was aroused, glowing with an inner fire. He wanted to see them widen, then go half-lidded with pleasure as they did last night when he gave Hermione the release she craved. But oh, it would be so much more when he could have her properly. Suddenly, he felt the overpowering urge to leave this place and return to England.

"Hermione, we can leave now. Go back to Hogwarts," he said, taking her hands and looking into her eyes meaningfully. Hermione understood. They could go back and finish what they had started in the realm of her dreams.

Raucous cawed happily. He was ready to go back home. He had enough of unicorns, hawks, wolves, snakes and whatever else this damned island held. All he wanted was his perch and three squares a day from his mistress. He was happy to see Snape, but Hermione had his heart now. He would never leave her.

"Yesss," Hermione breathed looking into his dark eyes and almost falling into them…then. "No, no I can't go back yet."

Snape scowled. "Why? You've done what you came to do," he said, clearly irritated by the possibility of a delay.

"I have to go see Peter and let him know I am all right," she said.

Peter? Who the hell was Peter? Snape's scowl darkened. Was she talking about seeing another wizard?

"Who is Peter?" he demanded, his soft voice sharp with possessiveness. Hermione heard the inflection and grinned at him.

"Not your competition, Professor," she said, now breaking out into a smile as the Potions Master relaxed at this statement. He certainly was jealous. "Peter is a seven year old boy, the son of Petra, the innkeeper, " she said.

Snape raised his eyebrow. She had only been in the village a couple of days. How did she manage to form such an attachment?

"Surely the boy will be all right, Hermione. I am anxious to get back," he pressed. Hermione's jaw set stubbornly.

"No. I promised him I would let him know I was all right. That the mountain didn't get me. We have to go to the village before we leave here," she stated firmly.

Snape's eyes swept over her. The witch's body language showed she would not be moved on this. She would be livid if he just took her to Hogwarts anyway, and that could result in her giving him a very hard time about deflowering her. He would eventually persuade her, he was sure, but he would rather have her current cooperation and willingness, rather than having to chase her and court her all over again.

"Very well," he conceded, "Come, we will go to the village and you can say your goodbyes."

Holding her hand firmly, Snape led the witch out of the tomb. He released her and turned toward the great open doors. He extended his hands and the heavy doors slowly swing shut. A loud clanking sound followed, ending with a heavy thump. The Professor turned and looked toward the Manor, the ancestral home of his people. If he chose, he could take it over and become its Lord. He was the holder of the ring after all. But he had no desire to live in the land of Mu, where an entire village of people, rather than a few dunderheaded students would fear him.

"Thinking about paying your relatives a visit, Professor?" Hermione asked him, also looking toward the Manor. She wouldn't mind seeing what they looked like.

The Professor was silent for a moment.

Finally he said, "No, Hermione. I won't intrude on them," he said shortly, "Let them continue in the way they are accustomed to." He looked at her as she hoisted her backpack on.

"It will take us about two days to make it back down the mountain. I have about one day's worth of jerky left. If we eat sparingly…" Hermione began, faltering as she saw the way Snape's eyes narrowed.

Snape looked at her as if she were insane.

"Hermione, I have no intention of hiking down this mountain and facing unicorns and gods know what else," he said, "We will apparate to the village."

Hermione looked at him. She had been doing without magic for so long, she didn't even think about his ability to apparate.

"Oh," she said softly, feeling like an idiot.

The Professor sighed and opened his arms. Hermione stepped into them. Raucous, who had been on Snape's shoulder the entire time, jumped to Hermione's and looked at the Professor expectantly. The Potions Master pulled Hermione tight against him, enjoying the feeling of her breasts mashing into him. Hermione looked up at him rather shyly, then gasped as he throbbed against her belly. Snape wasn't the least bit apologetic.

"I told you that you have an arousing effect on me, Hermione," he said, kissing her on her forehead. He didn't dare kiss her on the mouth. He wouldn't be able to stop if he started. He sighed again, a bit of frustration beneath it.

"Let's go to the village and get this out of the way quickly," the Professor growled at her, his black eyes glinting. "We have pressing business to attend to at Hogwarts."

Pulling Hermione even tighter against him, they disapparated.

* * *

Ozmadias shifted his footing with interest as two people emerged from the tomb. He knew in an instant that the wizard was one of the Snape family. He couldn't be anything else with his dark, silky hair, black eyes and pale skin. And that nose. Typical Snape nose, though his was rather large even by Snape standards. He watched as the wizard sealed the door and looked up at the Manor. 

If he returned, there would be another shift of power. But instead, the wizard embraced the witch and disapparated, thunder echoing in their wake. Well, they were gone, and Ozmadias was officially free of spying. Thank the gods.

The great bird leapt off the mountainside and flapped strongly toward the Manor to share what he saw with the Mistress. Things would finally return to normal.

* * *

Snape, Hermione and Raucous apparated into the center of town, directly in front of the inn, startling passerbys with their sudden appearance. If the group's sudden arrival stopped the people of the village in their tracks, it was nothing compared to seeing a Snape in their village. No one had seen a Snape in the flesh in over a generation. The Lemurians gaped and whispered to one another, children hiding behind their mothers, mothers hiding behind their fathers, all peering at the tall, pale, black-robed wizard in their midst. Snape looked around rather majestically, his face neutral as he studied the people who studied him. Hermione looked at the gaping Lemurians, her brow furrowed. 

"Why are they all staring at us?" Hermione whispered to the Potions Master.

"I'm a Snape, Hermione. One of the descendents of the original overlords who oppressed these people and treated them as little more than slaves. I imagine parents here tell children stories about us to make them behave. Something along the lines of 'the Snapes will get you if you don't watch out.' So, I am sort of the boogeyman incarnate," he said, smirking.

Hermione scowled at him.

"You act like you like being perceived as some kind of monster," she hissed at him as her amber eyes swept around the town.

"I do," he replied, striding forward toward the inn.

Hermione followed, Raucous clinging to her shoulder, squawking at the villagers and fluttering his wings rather threateningly, basking in the terror that was his former master.

Severus walked through the inn door. Petra was behind the counter, looking over her guest book. She saw a shadow fall across the floor and looked up with her best "welcome to my inn" smile, and froze in place as Snape stopped in front of the counter and looked down at her imperiously. Petra's smile faded, and fear filled her brown eyes.

Hermione followed Snape in and saw him standing at the counter terrorizing the innkeeper. She walked up and pushed his shoulder, frowning at him.

"You stop frightening Petra this instant, Professor!" she scolded.

The Professor's eyes twisted slowly towards Hermione, glinting with dark pleasure. He silently walked to one of the tables, drew out a chair and sat down. Petra's eyes followed the tall, dark wizard until he sat down, then shifted back to Hermione.

"You…you brought a Snape to the village? Hermione…this is not done. There hasn't been a Snape here in over a generation. What if he destroys our village?" she whispered at the witch.

Hermione smirked at this. The Professor might look frightening to them, but he would no sooner destroy their village than put on a tutu and dance down the main street.

"He's harmless, Petra. He only wants to leave Mu. He is the reason I went up the mountain," Hermione said to the innkeeper, who was staring at Snape. Petra looked at her openmouthed.

"This is the dead wizard you told me about?" she gasped, "How did you…did he…?"

"He wasn't quite as dead as I supposed. I resurrected him using a crystal," Hermione said.

Petra made some kind of sign over her breast at this revelation.

"You used the 'terrible crystal' to revive him? Great gods," Petra said, the horror in her eyes renewed as she looked at the Professor. At that instant, Peter walked out from the back of the inn. His eyes fell on Hermione and his entire face lit up.

"Hermione! You live!" he cried, running towards her. Then he skidded to a stop as his brown eyes fell on the Professor, who was looking at the boy with interest. Peter's eyes swept over the Professor. He didn't blanch however, and puffed out his chest bravely. Snape's eyes twinkled a bit at the little boy's courage.

"You're a Snape, aren't you?" the boy asked boldly.

"Peter!" Petra cried, horrified at her son's forwardness. The Snape might blast her boy. "Come away from him!"

The Professor looked at Petra.

"I won't hurt the boy," he said in perfect Lemurian.

Petra fell silent, but wrung her hands nervously as Snape turned back to the boy.

"Yes, I am one of the Snapes," he replied. "My name is Severus. And I suppose you are Peter."

"Yes, I am Peter. How do you know my name?" the boy asked, walking up to the table and standing opposite the Potions Master, showing no fear.

"I know it because Hermione told me we couldn't leave the island until she came to see you. You held me up," Snape replied, scowling a little at the boy with no effect.

"Well, she promised to come see me when she came down from the mountain," the boy said stubbornly. "That was before she saw you. So I come first." The child sounded a tad possessive. Snape fought back a grin as Petra looked as if she were about to faint.

"Yes, you come first," Snape agreed, looking at the boy somberly before gesturing toward Hermione, who was watching them interact, a smile on her face. She had never seen Snape interact with a child outside of Hogwarts.

"Well, there she is if you want to see her so badly. As you can tell, she is all in one piece," Snape said to the boy, one eyebrow arched.

Peter studied the Potions Master's face for a moment.

"You're not scary," the boy commented. Snape scowled at him blackly.

"I'm not, eh?" Snape said, relaxing his scowl a little.

"No. You look different, and you make mean faces. But you're not scary. You wouldn't hurt anybody without a reason. I can tell. Plus Hermione wouldn't have brought you back here if you were like that," Peter said, his eyes meeting the Professor's levelly. His mother was about to have conniptions.

"You are correct about that, Peter. I wouldn't hurt anyone without a reason," Snape agreed, "You are a very perceptive young lad. You don't let anyone make up your mind for you. That's quite commendable," Snape replied, giving the boy a small grin.

"Mama always told me not to believe everything I hear. She said I should try to find the truth out for myself," Peter said, looking at his mother proudly. Petra looked a little ashamed. Her own advice had come back to her full circle.

"Your mother is a very wise woman," Snape replied. Now Petra felt really bad. She walked from around the counter.

"May I bring you something to eat, Lord Snape?" she asked, curtseying.

Snape's black eyes fell on the stout witch.

"Yes, Petra. Some food would be excellent," he replied, giving her a slight smile. "But you do not have to address me as 'Lord' or curtsey. I am no overlord of Mu. Professor will be fine."

"Yes sir," Petra said, fighting the urge to curtsey again. Showing deference to Snapes was ingrained in her blood. "I will be back with some fish stew."

She bustled off to the kitchen to prepare the wizard some food.

Peter ran to Hermione and embraced her tightly around the waist.

"You came back!" he said, looking up at her, his brown eyes shining with gladness. Hermione stroked his hair.

"I told you I would," she said softly, leaning down and kissing him on his forehead.

Snape watched her interact with the boy, his eyes hooded. She would make a good mother.

Peter turned to Snape.

"You went to get him, didn't you?" he asked her, looking at the wizard, who stared back at him.

"Yes, I did. But I didn't know that was what I had to do," Hermione replied.

"Oh," Peter said, processing this. "I bet you were surprised."

"Yes. Yes I was Peter," she said, her eyes meeting the Professor's. Snape's eyes glinted at her hotly. Peter caught it.

"He likes you," the boy whispered. "Do you like him back?"

Hermione nodded. Peter scrutinized the Potions Master again before turning back to Hermione.

"I guess he's all right. He won't let anything bad happen to you," the boy said sagely.

"No, I don't think he will," Hermione replied softly.

The Professor had already proven that when he rescued her at the final battle. He had killed to protect her. She gave Snape a rather tender look, one that made the dark wizard's chest clutch. Gods he couldn't wait to get her alone and have her look at him like that again.

"Hermione, what happened on the mountain? Anything scary?" Peter asked her excitedly as Hermione slipped off her pack and set it on the floor. Raucous flew to the table Snape was sitting at and perched on the back of the chair across from him. He cocked his head at the Potions Master.

"So Raucous, I take it you and Hermione have ironed out your differences," Snape said to the bird in a low voice. Raucous cawed in the affirmative. "I guess you see now why I am attracted to her," the Potions Master said. Raucous eyed Hermione for a moment, then turned back to Snape and let out a noise that sounded very similar to a wolf whistle. Snape fought back a laugh.

"That is stating the obvious, Raucous. But she is also beautiful inside, don't you agree?" Snape asked him. Raucous nodded. "She'll make a fine wife," he said, looking over at the witch as she regaled Peter with tales of her adventures on the mountain. The boy was exclaiming and jumping about with excitement as she told him about the unicorns, the wolves, the wizards, the giant snake and almost being crushed by a boulder.

"Raucous! You're a hero!" Peter called over to the bird, who fluffed up his feathers proudly, before flying over to Hermione's shoulder, so he could better be heaped with the small boy's praises.

Petra returned from the kitchen, with three bowls of fish stew. She set them on the table.

"Here you go, Professor. On the house," she smiled at him.

"Thank you," he said, spooning a bit of the hot stew into his mouth. He chewed, then a look of pleasure spread across his face. He looked at Petra, who was watching him nervously.

"Madam, I must say that this is the best fish stew I have ever tasted," he said sincerely. "My deepest compliments to the chef."

Petra flushed with pleasure at receiving a compliment on her cooking from a Snape.

"Thank you, Professor," she gushed. Then her voice grew stern. "Hermione! Raucous! Come over here and eat something good for you. Three days of eating dried beef and jerky must have made you weak. Come, now! Peter let Hermione come eat," she chided.

Raucous flew over to the table and immediately moved to the bowl with the most stew in it. Hermione walked over and took the smaller bowl. Before Raucous could dive in, Snape reached across the table and switched his bowl with Hermione's. The bird squawked at him in irritation.

"You knew that bowl was Hermione's," Snape said to him. "That will fill you up good enough."

Raucous rolled his eyes at the Potions Master, but no one could tell because he had no whites to show the motion. He set about eating, picking out a juicy shrimp and swallowing it down. He squawked appreciatively at Petra.

"Why, thank you Raucous," the innkeeper replied, stroking his glossy feathers.

Hermione tucked in. Petra already knew how she felt about her cooking.

Petra watched them eat, occasionally catching the Potions Master looking at Hermione in an unmistakable way. She smiled to herself. Her initial thoughts that the wizard meant more to Hermione than the witch was letting on were confirmed. And by the way he was looking at her, he meant to possess her soon. Petra let her eyes sweep over the dark wizard. He wasn't an overly handsome man, but he was still attractive. He radiated strength and power. A bit of danger too. Quite a delicious combination. She suspected Hermione would be very happy with him. Soon they finished their meal.

"Would you like to go to your room to freshen up a bit, Hermione?" Petra asked her, producing her room key.

Before Hermione could reply, Snape said, "No. We will be leaving Mu immediately. We have much to do when we return to Hogwarts. He looked at Hermione intensely. The witch blushed. Petra grinned. The wizard was anxious to get the witch alone.

"I see," Petra replied, smiling broadly at the embarrassed Hermione as Snape rose, walked over and pulled the witch's chair out, helping her to her feet solicitously, before walking over to her backpack, picking it up and placing it on his own shoulders.

Hermione looked at him.

"I don't want anything slowing you down," he said shortly.

He said goodbye to Petra and Peter, then exited the inn. Hermione looked at the witch.

"I'm glad I met you and Peter, Petra," she said, hugging the innkeeper. Both witches' eyes were glistening. "Thank you for everything."

Petra nodded, unable to speak. She knew she would never see Hermione again.

Hermione turned to Peter and opened her arms. The little boy hugged her tightly.

"You take care of your mother and attend to your studies," Hermione said to him, ruffling his hair.

"I will, Hermione," Peter said, his little voice choking a bit. He liked the witch, even though she didn't have magic. He wished she could stay.

"Will you come back?" he asked her hopefully. Hermione looked at him and thought the truth would be best.

"No, Peter. I won't be coming back. I have my own life to live in England," she said softly.

"Ok," the boy said, "Have a nice life with the Professor."

Hermione looked at him, stunned for a moment. The boy was certainly perceptive.

"I will, Peter," she said, kissing him on the forehead and exiting the inn. Snape was standing in the middle of the street, Raucous on his shoulder, being ogled by the townspeople. He opened his arms to Hermione.

"Let's go home," he said as she moved into his arms, and he held her tightly. He looked down at the ring, which had begun to glow.

"Portis," he said.

The group disappeared, leaving the startled villagers gaping at the empty spot they left behind.

Petra and Peter were standing in the inn doorway when they departed, Peter's small arm around his mother's waist, while her arm rested on his shoulders. Peter looked up at her.

"Do you think they'll be happy, mama?" he asked the witch.

Petra looked down at him.

"Oh yes, Peter. Some people in this world are born to be together. The Professor and Hermione are two such people," she replied, smiling at him. Peter smiled back.

"I'm glad," he said simply.

Both mother and son turned and walked slowly back into the inn.

A Snape in the village. What a wonder that had been. People would talk about it for years to come.

* * *

Hermione, Snape and Raucous appeared in front of the main gates of Hogwarts. It was late in the evening. Probably about eight o'clock or so. Not many people would be about so close to curfew. A full moon shined down, illuminating the school grounds. The Professor released Hermione and drew in a deep, cleansing breath. He was home. Home. His pale hand touched the gates, tracing the bars. Hermione thought she saw a bit of wetness in his eyes. 

"It's nice to be back, isn't it, Professor?" she asked him softly.

Snape's eyes drank in the sight of the landscape stretching beyond the gate.

"Yes. Yes it is, Hermione," he replied. Then he unwarded the gate and pushed it open, gesturing for Hermione to enter. He followed her in, closed the gate and re-warded it. Raucous took off, flying towards the castle, cawing happily.

The couple started across the grounds at a good clip, Snape taking long strides and Hermione hurrying to keep up with him. She didn't complain, however. Obviously, the wizard was happy and anxious to get to the castle.

Snape was. He hadn't realized just how much he missed Hogwarts, and even his students. They irritated him to no end, but they were his pupils, the enlarging of their minds entrusted to him. If they managed to hold on to one thought, one new idea when they left him at the end of the year, he had made a difference. He realized just how rewarding that was.

He also found he looked forward to seeing Albus and McGonagal. Most of all, he was looking forward to the shocked faces that would be plastered all over everyone when his return was announced, particularly his students'. He imagined their shock would be mixed with dismay. He hoped that the substitute had stuck to his lesson plan. If she hadn't, the students would be in for a large amount of makeup work. He hesitated.

Albus thought he was dead. He may have very well given the substitute his job permanently…and his rooms. He looked over at Hermione. Damn, if he didn't have his rooms…then he would have no place to deflower her. Then again, he could do it just as well in her rooms as his own. But he wanted to take her in his bed. His domain. He wanted her sliding between his sheets, her body writhing on his mattress, her cries of passion echoing off his walls. It shouldn't matter where he took her, he knew…but it did. He wanted to bring his woman to his bed.

He sighed.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Hermione asked him, her brow wrinkled.

He looked at her.

"I was thinking that my rooms may have been taken over by the new Potions Master," he said.

"Potions Mistress," Hermione replied, "Your replacement is a witch."

Severus scowled as he imagined his rooms filled with flowers and knickknacks, and knickers hanging in his bathroom, while perfumes and facial creams lined his dresser. His bedroom was probably repainted in pastels, and frilly coverings on his bed. This wouldn't do at all.

"I wonder if Albus has given her my position," he mused out loud. He looked at Hermione. "It could well be that I am out of a job and will have to seek employment elsewhere."

Hermione felt her belly clutch at this statement. The Professor no longer at Hogwarts? How would they…gods. She hoped he still had a position. She wanted him near her, not someplace else.

"I'm sure it will work out, Professor," she said in a comforting voice. The Professor looked at her. He could tell the idea of him not being at Hogwarts disturbed her. It was a good feeling to know she cared.

"Don't worry Hermione," he said gently, "No matter where I go, I will never be far from you."

"But I don't want you to go anywhere else!" Hermione blurted out.

Snape looked down at the witch and stopped walking. He caught her chin gently in his hand.

"You have no idea how good it makes me feel to hear you say that, Hermione," he said softly.

He allowed himself to place a soft kiss on her lips, though inwardly…he burned for her. Her admission meant so much. Knowing she felt that strongly about needing his presence made his heart swell. Damn. He wanted to be inside her so badly.

He released her chin. Hermione felt a tingling where his hand had touched her face. How much more would her body tingle beneath those hands? She felt a strong burst of desire flow through her. Snape saw it in her eyes and drew in a breath. This was torture.

"Come," he said tightly, "Let us get to the castle and get our answers."

He started striding again as Hermione fought back her feelings and followed him. Presently, the castle came into view, and Snape's eyes glittered.

"Hogwarts," he breathed.

They hurried across the grounds and walked up the stairs to the main doors. They hesitated, aware of the furor they would create if anyone was about when they walked in. The couple looked at each other.

"I hope Albus doesn't have a heart attack," Hermione said to the Potions Master. Snape arched an eyebrow.

"More than likely I will be subjected to numerous embraces while he soaks my robes with tears of joy," he replied. "Then McGonagal will finish me off, her tears and embraces punctuated with kisses."

Hermione chuckled. He was probably right. She placed her hand on the door.

"Ready?" she asked.

"When is one ever ready for assaults on their person?" he responded, staring at the door as if it were the first step to the waiting gallows. "But yes. I am ready to descend on Hogwarts."

Hermione grinned a little wickedly.

"Let me take my backpack, Professor. It will make you easier to hug." she said.

Severus scowled at her, but slipped off the backpack and handed it to her. Most likely the Headmaster would hug it too, pressing it into his back uncomfortably. Hermione slipped it on, opened the door and walked through. Snape drew a deep breath, then followed her.

He had been right. There was no one in the main hall.

"I think we'd best contact Albus through the main floo," Snape suggested. He was glad there would be no public scene.

He and Hermione walked over to the floo. The witch took a handful of floo powder from the box on the mantle and tossed it in. The flames turned green.

"The Headmaster's office," she said, then called, "Headmaster? Headmaster!"

At first there was no answer. Then a joyous "Miss Granger? Is that you?" from the Headmaster.

"Yes, sir. I'm back," she said.

"Come up!" the Headmaster replied.

Hermione looked at Severus, who had a strange look on his face. Hearing the Headmaster's voice had an effect on him, and he was trying to hide it. Hermione wasn't fooled however.

"Let's go," she said gently, "I'll go first. You hang back a little."

Snape nodded. Hermione stepped through the floo. The Professor waited several seconds, then followed her, just as two fourth years students entered the main hall. One saw the Professor as he stepped through the floo. The other didn't.

The student who did see him stopped dead in his tracks, his face going pale.

"What's wrong with you?" the other student inquired, looking at the boy's stricken face.

He lifted his hand and pointed at the floo as if that would explain it all.

"What?" the other student said impatiently.

"I…I…I saw Professor Snape. He was entering the floo," he stammered.

The other student looked at him as if he were crazy.

"The Professor's dead," he said firmly.

The shocked student looked at his friend, his blue eyes wide.

"I'm telling you, Professor Snape just walked into that floo," he said running up to it. "Look, the flames are still green. The other boy walked up and saw the green flames before they turned back to their original color.

"Hmm. Somebody went through, that's for sure. But Professor Snape? Come on, Wayne," he said.

"I'm telling you, Radcliff…Professor Snape went through that floo, and it wasn't a ghost. He was as solid as you or I. He's back," Wayne said firmly.

"I've got a galleon that says you're wrong," Radcliff said, fishing in his robes pocket and pulling out his coin. Wayne looked at him.

"Easy money. It's a bet. You'll see tomorrow. Dumbledore will be announcing his return at breakfast," the boy said, showing his own money.

"Yeah, right," Radcliff snorted. "Come on, let's get to the dorms."

The young wizard headed for the main stairwell. Wayne stared at the floo for a moment, then followed him, thinking about Potions. The new Professor had been giving them all high marks to make herself look good. With Snape back, the easy ride his students had been taking in Potions class would be over. Damn it!

* * *

Hermione stepped through the floo, into Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster looked up at her from behind a pile of parchments spread on his desk. His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. He was wearing a matching purple hat and robe, the hat high and pointed, and the ensemble was peppered with small yellow stars. He rose from behind the desk and walked up to her. 

"Miss Granger…Hermione," he said in a choked voice, "We were so worried about you. I'm glad you made it back safely."

The old wizard embraced her warmly, his eyes closed. Thank the gods she made it back in one piece. He drew back from her.

"I trust you completed Severus' last request?" he asked her.

Hermione smiled broadly.

"Yes, yes I did Headmaster," she replied, turning toward the floo, as Snape stepped out of it.

Albus stared at the Potions Master, shock on his face. Then he brought his hand to his chest and started to hyperventilate.

"Headmaster!" Hermione cried.

"Albus!" Snape said, striding forward and helping the Headmaster to step back and lean against his desk. Albus was gasping desperately. Snape transformed one of the parchments into a brown paper bag. He was about to place it over the Headmaster's mouth and nose when Hermione pushed it away.

"No," she said, "Headmaster, close your mouth and cover one nostril! Breathe through the other nostril!"

Albus managed to do this. After a couple of minutes, his breathing returned to normal.

Hermione looked at Professor Snape.

"Using a paper bag causes too much carbon dioxide to return to the lungs too fast. It's better to breathe in less oxygen," she said knowledgably. She was still a know-it-all, but in this case it was a good thing.

"Severus…" The Headmaster croaked, staring at the Potions Master

"Yes, Albus. I have returned," Snape said, giving him a smirk.

The Headmaster launched himself at the dark wizard, wrapping his long arms around him and embracing him tightly. Snape's arms reflexively wrapped around the old wizard in response.

"My boy," Albus said in a broken voice, "I thought you were gone forever."

"No sir," Snape managed to grunt out as he was being crushed, "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

Albus held on to him, rocking gently. Snape's black eyes shifted to Hermione pleadingly as the witch watched Albus' display of affection for his returned Potions Master with a broad smile. She let it continue for a minute more as Snape scowled at her. Then she acted.

"Headmaster, let him go. He can hardly breathe," she said, placing her hand on Albus' shoulder.

The Headmaster released Snape, who plucked at his tear-soaked robes, looking at Hermione as if to say 'I told you so." Hermione smirked.

The Headmaster stared at Snape a bit longer, then started…quickly walking over to the floo.

"I must tell Minerva!" he said joyously, grabbing a handful of floo powder.

"No!" Snape said, stepping forward, "Er, I'm sure she is resting. It can wait until tomorrow, Albus."

Albus turned to him, grinning.

"Minerva would kill me if I didn't let her know," he said, tossing the powder into the floo.

Snape rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, then his shoulders slumped in defeat.

It was all Hermione could do to keep from bursting into laughter at the consternation on the wizard's face.

"Minerva? Minerva!" Albus called.

"Yes, Albus?" the Transfigurations Professor answered him.

"Stop whatever it is you're doing and come to my office immediately. It's very important," the Headmaster coaxed.

There was silence for a moment. Then…

"Albus, I'm not in the mood tonight. I have a headache," Minerva responded. "Maybe tomorrow night."

The Headmaster looked back at Snape and Hermione, his face bright red. Hermione tried to hide her grin. Snape's face was decidedly neutral, though if one looked closely he or she would have noticed a slight upturn of his mouth on the right side. Albus leaned back down to the floo.

"It's not that," the embarrassed Headmaster hissed at her.

"I've heard that one before," Minerva replied, thoroughly unconvinced.

The Headmaster scowled.

"Minerva, get in here right now!" he seethed.

Maybe it was the edge in his voice that made the witch respond. She stepped through the floo. She was in a granny nightgown, a housecoat thrown over it, and her long hair was loose and flowing down her back. She faced Albus, not seeing the witch and wizard at first.

"Now what is so important that you feel the need to order me about like a peon?" she scolded. The Headmaster twisted her head toward Snape. Minerva let out an ear-shattering shriek that made all three clasp their hands over their ears. The witch pointed a trembling finger at Snape.

"That's Severus," she said, her voice quivering.

"Yes, my dear. He's come back to us," Albus said gently.

Minerva looked at the Headmaster for a moment, then turned back to Snape, who braced himself. She flew across the room and latched on to his neck, pulling him down in a surprisingly strong embrace.

"Severus! Oh my gods, I thought you were dead," she gushed, her tears flowing freely.

"No, Minerva. I am very much alive. Would you mind crying on my other shoulder? This one is already soaked," he said, holding the sobbing witch lightly. Minerva didn't respond and continued to drench him with tears for several minutes before pulling back from him.

She was scowling.

"How dare you just disappear for six months and not let anyone know where you were? We were worried sick. Sick I tell you. Then you have Hermione go off to gods knows where to fulfill your last request, thinking you were dead, and …." she scolded.

"I've missed you too, Minerva," the Potions Master said looking down at the witch, who stopped scolding and hugged him tightly again, before moving to Hermione and embracing her.

"I see your journey was quite successful," she said to the witch, smiling at her, then at Severus.

"Very successful," Hermione replied looking at the Potions Master also.

The Headmaster looked at Severus sternly, now that the shock and joy of seeing him in the flesh was becoming old.

"Where were you, Severus? What happened to keep you away from us for so long," Albus asked the wizard. Snape looked at him consideringly for a moment.

"Perhaps we should all sit down," he suggested. Albus returned to his desk and sat attentively, his hands folded on his desk. Minerva and Hermione took the two armchairs in front of the Headmaster, and Severus transfigured a book into another chair, then folded himself into it.

All listened attentively as the Potions Master told of the death of Voldemort, their awakening in the void, and how Voldemort was sent to Hell while he was spared because of his deed.

"They called it a 'save'," he explained to his rapt audience.

Then he told them about the beings of light, and how they couldn't take him because he wasn't 'properly' dead, and how he was trapped in the void and watched as Hermione made her journey.

Hermione was a bit shocked by this revelation. Her amber eyes narrowed at Snape as he spoke of it. When did he start watching her and how much had he seen? She'd have to ask him about that later. Hermione suspected he'd seen quite a bit. She colored.

Snape then described what his return was like, the pain he endured before returning to the corporeal world. How the spell had reversed itself and he had to endure the burning, then fell to earth. He finished with Hermione kissing and reviving him. Both the Headmaster and Minerva looked at the witch appraisingly.

"It sounds a little bit like that muggle fairytale, Snow White, but reversed. In this case the Princess awakened the Prince with a kiss," Minerva observed with a tight smile as she eyed Hermione. She suspected something more went on between these two than Severus was telling.

"Indeed it does," Albus agreed, sounding thoughtful as he looked between the Potions Master and the Spells Mistress. He hoped there was something between them. He turned to Hermione.

"Now it's your turn, Miss Granger, tell us of your journey," he said.

Hermione recounted her tale, beginning with hearing Severus' voice telling her to use the ring as a port key, meeting Peter, then his mother and taking a room at the inn. She also told them about Ketri's attack on her and how he disappeared and no one could find him.

"The ring killed him," the Professor said, his nostrils flared, "The man intended to kill you after he had his way with you. If he were simply attempting to rob you, he would have lived. The ring is very unforgiving concerning assassins and would-be murderers. It won't leave dangerous enemies alive to try again."

Hermione's eyes fell on the ring resting innocently on the Potions Master's hand. So it had killed Ketri. She hadn't known that. Still, she felt bad a man was killed because of her.

"Hermione, he would not have felt any pity for you," Snape said, divining her thoughts. "He would have raped you and killed you with a clear conscience. He was an animal of the worst sort. Don't feel guilty about his death. He wouldn't have felt guilty about yours."

The Potions Master placed a large pale hand over Hermione's small one, and squeezed it reassuringly. Albus and Minerva looked at each other. The Potions Master never initiated physical contact with anyone…yet he was doing so with Hermione. Yes, something definitely was going on here.

"Continue with your story, Hermione," the Potions Master said, his black eyes meeting hers encouragingly. She did.

She told about how Raucous saved her from the charging unicorns, and how the ring heated up in the middle of the night, waking her…but nothing else happened. Snape looked thoughtful at this. If the ring heated up, something was definitely happening. Probably Hermione wasn't aware of it. Snape could view the deeds of the ring. He would do it later, and see what happened that night.

Hermione continued, telling about the wolves, and the wizards that tried to take the ring, and the guardian that saved her. Then she described bringing the Professor's body back, and how she thought he was dead, and kissed him because she was sorry she had failed him. Snape looked at her, his black eyes soft as she described her sadness. It was at that moment he was sure the witch loved him.

She then described returning to the village, and the townspeople's reaction to Snape being in the village, and how the Potions Master met Peter and Petra. She ended with them returning to Hogwarts.

Albus looked at her. "That was quite an adventure, Miss Granger. Thank the gods you got back to us safely," he said.

"Yes, thank the gods," Minerva said, looking at Snape sternly, "You could have let her know she was going to resurrect you."

"I thought it would be too much stress, particularly if it didn't work," Snape said, trying to placate the witch. She harrumphed and crossed her arms disapprovingly.

"It was fine, Minerva. Bringing him back was a pleasant surprise," Hermione offered, hoping it would calm the witch. Minerva harrumphed again.

Silence followed as the wizards and witches looked at each other. Then Snape broached the subject he was most concerned about.

"Albus, do I still have a position here?" he asked the Headmaster.

Albus looked at him, hesitatingly.

"Your position has been filled by Professor Flintlock, Severus. I'm afraid I can't remove her without good reason," he said sadly.

Hermione's heart plummeted. No, this couldn't be happening.

"I see, Headmaster," Snape replied. Damn.

Albus looked at the parchments on his desk.

"I was just going over the student's marks in her class. I have to say Severus, that since she's been here, the pupils' marks have increased significantly. Everyone is doing extremely well," the Headmaster said, "I think she is reaching them."

Severus scowled. He knew his students. Most of them had no aptitude for Potions. It was impossible for all of them to have high marks.

"May I see those?" he asked.

"Certainly," the Headmaster said, passing him the sixth year parchments. Snape shuffled through them, his scowl growing darker. Hermione watched him. Snape looked up at the Headmaster sharply.

"Albus, I have known most of these students for several years, and am aware of their capabilities. There is no way these students could earn these kinds of marks in Potions. No way. They don't have the aptitude," he stated firmly, passing the parchments back to the Headmaster.

Albus looked at Snape with a serious expression on his kind face.

"Severus, are you suggesting that Professor Flintlock is purposely fudging the students' grades?" he asked the Potions Master.

"With my knowledge of the pupils in that class, Albus, I have to say yes. She is doing exactly that," Severus replied, his brow furrowed. "And by doing this, she is putting the students in grave danger. They will be working on potions without proper knowledge. As you know, Albus, that can be lethal."

"Yes," the Headmaster replied, frowning. "How can we prove this? If she is doing what you accuse her of, Severus, then she will be removed from the position and you can return to your classes and your rooms."

"Allow me to conduct an impromptu test in her sixth-year class, Professor. I will assign potions to be brewed and monitor the students carefully. If the majority managed to brew them properly, then I will admit I was mistaken, and Professor Flintlock has a way of imparting knowledge to the students that I am incapable of," Snape said, his black eyes glittering. "The sooner we do this, the better. Student lives are on the line."

Albus nodded, "Will tomorrow be too soon?" he asked.

"Tomorrow will be perfect," the Professor said, his eyes shifting toward Hermione. If he were correct, he could be back in his rooms within a few days. Once he was back in his rooms…

"Severus, you will stay in my guest bedroom while we investigate this situation," Albus said firmly.

"Yes Headmaster," Snape said, his eyes still on Hermione, who was looking at him with equal longing. No doubt she would accept him in her rooms tonight if he wished it. He turned to the Headmaster. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome Severus," the Headmaster said. Then he smiled. "I still can't believe you're back. Wait until I make the announcement that you still live. Everyone will be ecstatic."

Snape snorted. Albus still persisted in his delusion that everyone appreciated the Potions Master as much as he.

"And wait until they find out you are the wizard who killed Voldemort!" the Headmaster added happily. Snape stiffened.

"No. No, Albus. I don't want it made public. Ever," Snape practically hissed.

Albus looked at him stunned.

"Why not, Severus. You are a hero. You have done a great service to the wizarding world. You should be acknowledged and admired," he said.

Snape looked at him.

"Headmaster, I am not a wizard used to admiration. I am used to being despised and prefer it that way. It keeps the idiots away from me. I am free of Voldemort now, and can live a relatively normal life. If what I've done is made public, I will not be able to freely move through the wizarding world. My every act, my every relationship will be scrutinized, and my private life thrown across the headlines of tabloids. Everywhere I go, people will want to shake my hand or have me sign autographs. I won't be able to shop or stop in an inn for a drink, or anything. I don't want to live that way, Albus. I just want to be left alone," Snape stated firmly.

The Headmaster looked at him.

"When you put it that way, I see your point Severus. I will keep the knowledge to myself, as will Minerva," he stated, looking at his lover.

"Yes, yes I will," Minerva said.

"I know you will, Minerva," Albus said. He threw his hand out and muttered an incantation. The witch's eyes went blank for a moment as Hermione gasped.

"You obliviated her?" Hermione asked, frowning at the Headmaster. How could he?

Albus sighed. "Yes I did, Hermione. Minerva is a lovely woman who means well, but she is also a gossip. Sooner or later she would have told of Severus' deed. I've been dealing with her for over thirty years, Miss Granger. I know her. It's better this way. I've only taken out the part about Voldemort. She'll remember everything else," he said reassuringly.

Hermione didn't like it, but it probably was for the best.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape said as Minerva came back to herself. She blinked and stood up quickly.

"I think I should say good night," she said, moving toward the floo, "I am very tired."

"Very well my dear," Albus replied smiling at her.

Minerva bid Snape and Hermione a hasty good night, threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and stepped through.

The Headmaster stood up and looked from Snape to Hermione.

"I am about to retire as well," he said. "Severus, your room is down the hall, the third door on the right. If you need anything, a house elf will attend you. Goodnight. And good night Miss Granger. I am pleased to have you both back with us," he smiled at the couple, rose from his desk and exited the office.

Hermione looked at Snape, whose black eyes were fixed on her.

"So…we are back at Hogwarts," she said softly, not knowing exactly what to say to this wizard who made her insides feel as if they were made of hot pudding.

"Yes we are," he replied, "Although I am currently at a disadvantage…having no rooms of my own."

Hermione looked at him, and swallowed as she prepared to say something quite forward.

"You could always come to my rooms, Professor," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She was offering him more than a place to sleep, and the wizard knew it. He felt a throb as he looked at her face, the expression on it a beautiful mixture of shyness and longing. Yes, he could go to her rooms, to her bed and release everything he felt for her. But a stubborn part of him still wanted her the way he imagined. In his rooms, in his domain.

"I want you in my bed, Hermione," he replied, his voice carrying a slight growl.

"Well, you could sleep on my couch," she suggested. The Professor arched an eyebrow at her.

"If I were to go to your rooms with you, Hermione, I might start out on the couch, but by morning I would be in your bed. You know that," he said softly.

Yes, she did know that. That was her entire intention.

"Yes, I do," Hermione replied, her amber eyes locked to his black ones. "That's what I want."

Snape felt himself getting an erection. He stood up, pulled Hermione to her feet and crushed her against him, possessing her mouth hungrily as she melted against him. He couldn't stop his hands from moving over her body as he tasted her warmth, her willingness to give herself to him. He pressed his organ against her, needing that contact, and the witch groaned, the sound rising from someplace deep inside her soul.

"Please, Professor…come to my rooms," Hermione gasped against his mouth. "I'm so ready."

"My…bed," the Professor managed to grunt. "Only a day or two."

"Now," Hermione hissed beginning to pull him toward the floo.

"I told Albus I'd stay here," he groaned as she edged him closer to the fireplace.

"The hell with what you told Albus, Professor. I feel as if I am going to explode if you don't take me," Hermione breathed, then realized what she had said.

Snape looked down at her, aroused by the language she used. He felt himself quaking he wanted her so bad.

"Hermione," he breathed, "Your first time, I plan to make love to you. After that I will ride you, and ride you and ride you until your toes are stuck in a perpetual curl. I promise you. Just…not tonight. It is important to me that you are in my bed when I deflower you. That your blood be on my sheets. I don't know why I feel this way, Hermione. I have never hesitated to take a woman I desired before, at whatever location that was available except my own bed. I believe it is because you are special and precious to me. I want you to be the first and only woman I take to my bed."

He allowed himself one more sweet, lustful kiss before he moved away from her, which was difficult because she was following him as he backed away. He managed to wrest free of her, picked up her pack and pushed it into her arms to keep her from grabbing him again. He hurt it was so hard.

"Go to your rooms, Hermione," he said, his black eyes meeting her heated ones. "Dream about me."

"I am fucking tired of dreams!" Hermione said loudly. "I want you!"

Fawkes, asleep on her perch, woke up, untucked her head from beneath her wing and looked at the pair, trilling softly.

Snape shushed Hermione, looking back at the doorway Albus had used to exit, thinking he might have heard the witch's passionate declaration.

"You will have more of me than you can stand, Hermione. Just be patient a little while longer," he said as the witch scowled up at him from behind her backpack. "It will be worth it, I promise you."

Hermione looked up at the Professor realizing this was just as hard for him as it was for her. He wanted to make his first time with her special. Most wizards wouldn't be so thoughtful.

"All right Professor. I can wait if you can. But if you change your mind, please come to me. I won't have a stitch of clothing on," she breathed.

The Professor closed his eyes. Hermione was quickly learning to become a temptress.

"Just go, Hermione," he croaked.

The witch gave him a rather evil smile, knowing her comment about waiting for him naked would haunt him all night long, maybe even drive him through the floo in the middle of the night. Yes, she really was learning.

"Good night, Professor," she said, grabbing a handful of floo powder and tossing it into the flames.

"My rooms," she said, stepping through the floo.

Snape stood there, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. That last comment had almost broken his resolve. The image of Hermione lying naked in her bed, waiting for him to come and take her flashed through his mind. Snape pushed it away, then turned and walked to Albus' desk. He gripped the edge of it so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

Fawkes, watching him, began to sing a soothing tune. Snape felt it wrap around him, easing him, calming him down. The quaking stopped. The Professor sighed and turned to the Phoenix.

"Thank you, Fawkes. I don't think I would have lasted left to my own devices," he said to the bird. "That young woman has an iron grip on me. She is well on her way to becoming an excellent seductress."

Fawkes rolled her eyes at the dark wizard. Even she could see he needed very little seducing when it came to Hermione.

"I saw that," Snape said, scowling at the bird.

Fawkes made a stuttered squawking noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Snape turned and walked toward the guest room, his thoughts on the naked witch waiting in her rooms.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning in a bad temper. Her attempt at luring the Professor to her bed had failed miserably. When she returned the night before, she quickly removed all the sheets from her furniture and dusted as best she could without magic, trying to neaten up the place in case he came. She put fresh sheets and covers on her bed, showered and slid between the sheets, waiting. Finally she fell asleep. 

Frowning, she rolled out of bed, used the loo, brushed her teeth and washed her face. She stalked back into her bedroom and hastily dressed. She wanted to be in the Great Hall when Albus announced Severus' return. She returned to the bathroom and quickly brushed her hair, then exited her rooms. As she stepped out into the dungeon hallway she found the Professor leaning against the opposite wall, looking at her. Instead of speaking to him, she started up the corridor.

Snape smirked. He knew she was furious at him for not coming to her rooms last night. He quickly caught up to the witch.

"Good morning, Hermione. Sleep well?" he asked her silkily.

Hermione felt like taking a swing at him.

Snape caught her shoulder and stopped her, spinning her to face him.

"I have something of yours," he said, reaching into his robes pocket and pulling out a wand.

Hermione's eyes widened. "My wand!" she cried taking it from him and letting out a shower of sparks. "Where did you get it?" she asked.

"I retrieved it after I sent you back to Hogwarts," he said, "It was in my pocket when I killed Voldemort. I imagined it reformed with my body. I realized I had it last night when I undressed for bed."

"Thank you so much, Professor," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

He looked at her.

"So, am I forgiven?" he asked her as she looked at her wand happily.

"Hermione looked up at him.

"Forgiven for what?" she asked, still joyful about getting her wand back. Using the school wands had been hell.

"For not coming to your rooms last night," he said in a low voice.

Hermione looked at him.

"I waited for you," she said, her amber eyes darkening a bit, "when you didn't show, I feel asleep. No dreams to comfort me."

The Professor drew closer, his face inches from hers, his black eyes intense.

"You won't have to wait for dreams much longer Hermione. It was very hard to keep from coming to you in the middle of the night. Extremely hard," he said softly. "It took all my strength and discipline."

He gave her a soft, lingering kiss.

"I only hope, Hermione, that when you do come to me, I can maintain some control," he whispered against her ear, his warm breath like a caress.

Hermione's knickers went instantly wet. The Professor was so damn sexy. She wanted him to lose control, because she was certain she would.

"Professor," she breathed as he moved back from her. Suddenly both heard a collective gasp, and turned around. A group of Slytherin students stood staring at the Professor with disbelieving eyes and open mouths. None of them said a word. They simply gaped at him. He scowled.

"What are you all staring at?" he snarled, "Go to breakfast, now! Before I take points."

The students all jumped and jetted past them, looking back in awe as they hurried toward breakfast. Hermione looked at him with a frown.

"Professor, that was terrible. They were just shocked to see you…alive," she said to him, putting her hands on her hips as the Professor smirked after the students.

"I have to restore the balance, Hermione. They haven't seen me in a while. I need to re-establish my authority," he said as they began walking. Now more students were passing, their eyes wide. None dared stop however. The Professor was glaring at each and every pupil that dared to look him in the eye.

"You really enjoy keeping them quivering, don't you Professor?" Hermione asked him.

"Definitely," he replied before shifting his eyes toward her with a wicked gleam, "But my students aren't the only ones I want quivering, Hermione."

Hermione felt such a powerful burst of warmth in her belly, she gasped.

"Professor, you have to stop talking about this. I can't take it," Hermione breathed, "I bet anyone who looks at me can tell I'm turned on."

Snape's black eyes swept over her appraisingly. Her amber eyes were glistening and heated, her lips were moist and parted, her skin had a light flush and she was perspiring slightly. Yes, she definitely looked randy.

"I see your point," he said, not making her feel any less conspicuous. "A change of subject then. I would like you to be an observer during my testing of the sixth year Potions students today," he said as they turned into the main hall and headed to breakfast. They didn't take the normal route that led through the staff member entrance. Snape wanted to make an entrance. Not so much for the students and faculty, but for the Potions Mistress. He wanted to put her off balance.

"I'll be glad to observe," Hermione replied.

"Thank you," he said as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and let her enter first. They walked side-by-side up the center aisle as gasp, after gasp and even a couple of shrieks rang out from the student body. As they mounted the stairs, Snape heard several groans and grinned wickedly. He was home all right, and the misery of the students upon his return was music to his ears. Now all he needed was to get his class back. The entire staff descended on him, patting his back and welcoming him as if he were a long lost child. Finally he couldn't take any more.

"As you can see I am back in one piece, a piece that will most certainly be damaged if you all continue to pound on me," he snarled, "Now kindly let me eat my breakfast."

The staff all returned to their seats, scowling a bit. Obviously the Professor's brush with death did nothing to sweeten his personality. Professor Flintlock was sitting in his chair. She was the only staff member who did not greet him, and the red-haired, green-eyed witch looked at him rather sourly as he eyed her before he turned a fork into a chair, which he placed by Hermione and sat in stiffly. That had been his spot for years. He didn't appreciate the witch occupying his seat, his classroom or his private rooms. During the meal, Professor Flintlock cut glances toward the dark, pale wizard who was the former Potions Master. He probably wanted his job back. No way. She was making out good here at Hogwarts, and she wasn't about to resign.

The witch knew Albus couldn't remove her without a good reason, so she felt relatively secure. The wizard would just have to find work elsewhere.

There was a sudden tinging sound that echoed through the hall. All eyes turned toward Dumbledore, who was standing and knocking a fork against a glass. This was his signal that he had something of importance to share. Everyone fell silent.

"Good morning, students and faculty. I would like to share some wonderful news with you. Our Spells Mistress, Miss Hermione Granger has returned from her journey…and brought back our Potions Master Severus Snape, whom we mistakenly thought dead. This is indeed a most joyous occasion. Let the Professor know how happy we are to see him, healthy and fit," the Headmaster said.

Scattered applause sounded throughout the hall, as Snape stood and scowled at each table of students maliciously. The applause was extremely short-lived. Snape sat back down and ignored Hermione's glare, smirking slightly He was back in his element.

Professor Flintlock noticed immediately how unpopular the wizard was with the students, and took this to be a good sign. They all liked her very much. It would be no contest. Plus her grading system gave the appearance that her teaching methods were superior to Professor Snape's. The Headmaster had to be impressed. She finished her breakfast in good spirits, and exited the Great Hall. She had a class soon.

Snape watched the witch go, his eyes hooded. He'd soon see just how thorough Professor Flintlock's teaching methods were.

* * *

Professor Flintlock had just finished taking the roll for her sixth year class, when the door to her classroom opened and in walked the Headmaster, followed by the Spells Mistress and Professor Snape. Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she eyed the former Potions Master, then widened in greeting. 

"Why Headmaster, always a pleasure," she said, smiling as the Headmaster walked to the head of the class. The Professor followed as Hermione hung back a bit. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Albus said pleasantly, "This is Professor Snape, the former Potions Master here at Hogwarts." He gestured toward Snape.

"Professor," the witch said. There was a bit of coldness in her voice. Snape caught it. He nodded at the witch.

"Professor Flintlock, I was very impressed with the marks this class has been getting in the past few months since you joined us," the Headmaster said. "So impressed that I'd like a demonstration of their skills."

The Professor stiffened.

"A…a…demonstration?" she asked. This wasn't good.

"Yes," Albus replied, "I've talked Professor Snape into giving them a few random brewing assignments. Nothing too difficult, just creating a few everyday potions."

"I see," Flintlock replied, eyeing Snape, who looked at her with an arched eyebrow. "What kind of potions will you have them brew?"

"I will assign each student a different potion, more or less. Standard, of course, though those with the higher marks will have something challenging. Given their grades, I imagine the brewing will be simple enough for them," he purred at her.

"Certainly," she replied, "Of course I will be allowed to observe?"

"Ah…no," Albus said, "It would be best to have an unbiased observer, my dear. The Spell Mistress will oversee the results. She has a degree in Potions as well."

Flintlock's face clouded over. This really wasn't good.

"Headmaster, wouldn't it be more fair to wait a few days and let them prepare for such an examination?" she suggested.

"Why, Professor? Given their marks they should already be prepared," Albus said, "Do you have any reason to doubt their abilities?"

"Such as you've bumped up their marks?" Snape thought as he looked at the witch, who had gone pale.

"Ah…no sir. It's just that some students might not perform well under pressure," she replied. "I always give them a few days to prepare for tests."

"If you have taught them well, Professor, then they should be able to properly brew a potion regardless of it being a test or not," Snape said, eyeing her. "A good brewer can create a potion under stress. And with these marks, I presume they are all good brewers."

Black eyes met green eyes, and the witch knew immediately that Professor Snape suspected she was giving high marks for mediocre or even poor work. She nodded weakly.

"Well then, I'll get right to it," Snape said, walking up to the blackboard and picking up the chalk. He wrote the name of ten potions on the board, then picked up a parchment and quill. He called up the first student and gave him his potion to brew. There was no list of ingredients. The potions were simple however. The students should all know the ingredients and measurements of each. He sent the boy to the storeroom to collect his supplies. When he returned and began to set up his cauldron, Snape sent the next.

Professor Flintlock looked at the list of Potions on the board and blanched. There was no way this class was going to pull this off. Someone might get hurt, or even killed. She had an internal struggle with herself, trying to decide whether or not to admit what she had been doing. She watched as the first student heated up his cauldron, added the base and looked at his ingredients with a puzzled face. He faltered over one, then another…not knowing which to start with. He picked up a handful of lacewings and was about to add it to the base when the witch shouted.

"Don't add that! It's wrong…you'll cause an explosion. You can't add lacewing to that particular base, Fredrick," she said, defeat in her voice. "Anyway, lacewing is not even an ingredient in the potion you've been assigned. Put away your cauldron. All of you…put the cauldrons back," she said. She turned to Albus.

"Headmaster, I'm sorry. They aren't ready for this. I bumped up the marks to try to impress you," she said.

Albus frowned at her. "Professor, I'm afraid I am going to have to relieve you of your position immediately. You've put the students' lives at risk as well as been dishonest," he said firmly. "I am also afraid I cannot give you a letter of recommendation for employment in another teaching position."

The witch hung her head.

"Yes, Headmaster. I understand," she said in a small voice.

Snape breathed a small sigh of relief. He had been watching Fredrick and was prepared to stop the explosion. The witch was a cheat, but at least she had enough conscience not to allow a student to be hurt because of her cheating. That's what he had been hoping for all along. That she would confess rather than have the pupil's put in danger.

"How soon do you think you can have Professor Snape's office and rooms cleared out?" Albus asked her.

"I should be able to have everything cleared away by tomorrow evening," she replied.

"What about my creatures you removed from my office? It took me a long time to collect them. Did you destroy them?" Snape asked, his eyes glittering at her.

"No, they are in storage below the castle. I will retrieve them and replace them for you," the witch replied. The sparkle was gone in her green eyes.

Hermione watched in silence. It was terrible to see someone get fired, but the witch deserved it. Professor Snape was hard with marks, but the students worked for them. He never gave them a break. It was too dangerous to do so. They had to know what they were doing when dealing with Potions. One mistake and they could lose their lives. Today was a perfect example as to why he was so hard on his students. He wanted to make sure they could brew under pressure and wouldn't make mistakes that could kill them.

Professor Flintlock left the class with Albus. Professor Snape looked at the students imperiously. They all blanched.

"I hope you all enjoyed your ill-gotten marks," he said silkily, "because as of now all of you are borderline failures, and your marks will reflect this."

He turned to a parchment hanging on the wall. It had student names on it, with shimmering gold stars next to them. Snape ripped it off the wall, and tore it into little bits, letting the pieces fall on his desk. He then made a motion with his hand, and the pieces burst into flames that burned out, not even leaving ash.

He looked up at the pupils.

"As of now we are returning to the syllabus at the point where I departed six months ago. You will receive double assignments from now until the end of the year. I expect them to ALL be completed. I am determined to hammer some kind of knowledge into those wooden heads of yours before this course is over. Now take out your books, read chapter five and hand in a written summary at the end of class," he said. "Incomplete summaries will receive a failing grades. There will be NO partial credits in my class," he said, slamming his hand down on his desk for emphasis.

The classroom was filled with the sound of books being hurriedly opened. The Professor was back. Playtime was over.

Hermione watched as Snape reclaimed his classroom and his students, shaking her head slightly as he laid down the law. He was magnificent. His black eyes cut over to her, and he gave her a small smirk, before striding up and down the aisles, his robes billowing, looking over the shoulders of the students as he intimidated them with his closeness.

She gave him a wave and exited his classroom. His position at Hogwarts was again secure. Which meant he would soon have his rooms…, which meant he would soon have her.

Hermione felt a little pulse of desire in her belly as she thought of this. Gods she wanted him. She hoped Professor Flintlock was a fast packer.

She was.

The witch was entirely cleared out of the premises by the following afternoon. True to her word, she had restored all of Snape's horrible pickled creatures to the shelving. The Professor entered his study, relieved to find it still in the same shape and color it had been when he occupied it. All his liquor was still in the cabinet as well. Obviously, the witch didn't drink. He walked into the room most important. His bedroom. It wasn't pastel pink, though he saw some studs left in the wall where the witch had hung pictures. He looked at his four-poster king-sized bed. It was sheetless. He cast a very thorough cleaning spell on it, then turned the huge mattress over and cleaned it again. He cleaned it several times until he was satisfied all trace of the witch was removed from it.

Snape opened his wardrobe to find all his clothes neatly cleaned and hung. The same with his dresser and lower drawer. Obviously the witch had restored his rooms back to the state they were before she occupied them. That was thoughtful. Maybe she wasn't all bad. She had been rather young, and anxious to make a good impression. She just chose a dishonest way to do it. Hopefully she would learn from her experience and find work she was better suited for. Not everyone could teach.

The Professor walked into his bathroom. All of his items were restored there as well. Good, it didn't leave him much work to do. He opened the linen closet and removed his bedding, which was also cleaned. He made the bed by hand, rather than using magic, letting the silk sheets slip deliciously over his hands as he neatly spread and tucked them securely under the mattress. He then put an anti-slip charm on them, so they wouldn't pull loose and tangle around him and Hermione. He wanted nothing but skin on skin. He put pillowcases on the pillows, then covered the bed with a quilt of silver and green, of course. He had to fly the house colors for this night. He was deflowering a Gryffindor after all…and that was a bit of a coup. Snape was very house-oriented.

He sat down on the bed and bounced experimentally. His mattress was rather firm, he liked it that way. It was the perfect tautness for deflowerment. He grinned at the thought of Hermione under him. His member throbbed. He looked down at his lap.

"It won't be long now, old boy," he said.

He exited the bedroom, walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself some cognac. He sipped the amber liquid appreciatively. He hadn't had a drink in over six months. It was delicious. He sat down in the armchair and stared into the fire idly.

Snape had wanted Hermione for five long years. He had treated her with respect the entire time, believing that one day he might have something more with her. But it was when he saved her life, and saw the gratitude in her eyes that he felt the urge to let her know he desired her. He gave her the ring, hoping that it would work for her based on his will. Then he kissed her. When she responded to him and his admission of wanting more didn't make her draw away, he knew there was a good chance that she was the one. He had written her into his will four years ago, since he had no one else he cared for who would benefit from his wealth. Albus and Minerva were both well off, and well up in years. Hermione was going to lead a promising life. His money would help her do that, even if he wasn't there to see the results.

He had left a large amount of money in trust for himself as well, in case he should manage to return. He didn't feel the least bit diminished by what he had given her, especially in lieu of what she was about to give him in a few hours. That alone was worth his entire fortune. What an amazing young woman she was. She walked into the unknown and risked everything for him, simply because he asked. But then again, she was a Gryffindor. When he made his plans to destroy Voldemort, he took her nature into account when he made his daring plan and drew up the instructions for the solicitor. Hermione had already proven she was up to adventure, her association with the dim-witted Potter and his idiot sidekick Weasley had shown that years ago. Her compassion would move her to grant a dead wizard's last wish, particularly if he had no one else to do it. Her love of a challenge sealed the deal.

Snape wasn't sure how much the ring would work for her. He knew it would transport her and protect her, though he didn't know if the Guardian would manifest for her. When it did, he knew she was destined for him. His instinct to give her the ring and the quest had been correct. That reminded him…

The Professor looked down at the ring and concentrated. The last several acts it committed were revealed to him. He watched as the Guardian manifested outside Hermione's tent under deep cover of darkness, and how it grabbed Grog's club in its mouth so the ogre couldn't bring it down on the tent and the sleeping witch within. He also saw how the Guardian pursued the ogre, cornered him in his cave and devoured him. Grog would have been a standing threat to Hermione her entire time on the mountain, intent on eating her. So the ring removed him.

Snape would share this information with Hermione over dinner tonight. He would have something light prepared. He hoped to make her relax. As ready for him as she appeared to be, there would still be nerves. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to trust him completely. Her trust was important.

After all, Snape wanted nothing more than to love her.

* * *

Hermione stood in front of the mirror looking at herself critically. She was wearing a thin-strapped Slytherin green and silver dress with matching pumps. Even her panties were Snape's house colors. She wore no bra. Her chestnut hair was pinned up elegantly and she wore a pair of dangling emerald and silver earrings. That was her only jewelry. The dress fit her shape nicely, flattering her curves. She spun slowly, trying to see herself at all angles. 

The Professor said they would be having a late dinner together in his rooms. He didn't say anything else, but Hermione knew that tonight would be the night he would deflower her. She could see it in his eyes. Soon she would be skin to skin with him, and he would be closer to her than any man had ever been. The witch was excited and very nervous. What if she did something wrong? She didn't know anything about having sex. She only knew there was a great hunger for him gnawing at her insides, and had been for days, maybe even months. Maybe from the time he had first kissed her at the final battle, and let her know that he wanted more.

Hermione remembered when she first laid eyes on the Professor as a child. She had thought him the scariest, ugliest wizard she had ever seen. After attending his class for the first time, she added meanest to the list. But she realized after a short time that he was brilliant, and outside of Charms, Potions was her favorite class and, though she never admitted it to Harry or Ron, Professor Snape had been her favorite teacher. He was brilliant and demanding. He always had challenged her, even though she had to fight for every high mark she got in his class. She came to appreciate his caustic wit, and learned to tone herself down and listen rather than talk all the time. She found she really did learn more in his class that way. He was hard on her all the time, but she realized he had to be. Everything came so easy to her, it would have been an easy thing for her to take her brilliance for granted. The Potions Master never allowed her to do that, and made her second guess herself all the time until she learned to trust her instincts. He really had been quite an influence on her. She was trusting her instincts now…and they all said go to him.

Hermione couldn't remember exactly when she started to find the Potions Master attractive, although she knew it was in her sixth year. He wasn't handsome in the classic sense, he was more of a complete package. He had a kind of beauty about him. Strong, graceful, dangerous, intelligent, with a voice that could melt the polar ice caps. She had a small crush on him, but had never imagined that he had felt anything about her.

Five years he had wanted her. She was twenty-three now, so that meant she was a seventh year when his desire for her first began. When he kissed her at the Final Battle, Hermione realized she was still attracted to him, and very strongly so. The witch had dwelt on what could have been between them the entire six months before her journey to Mu. When the Professor came to her in her dreams, that spark of possibility she felt had quickly become a full-fledged flame. The witch knew in her heart that she loved the dark wizard. She had fallen in love with him in her dreams. And he had made it plain that he intended to marry her. Could he love her too?

Hermione looked at the clock. It was almost eight o'clock. She took one more look in the mirror and nervously smoothed her hair. It was time to go to the Professor's rooms. It was time to go to him.

* * *

Snape prowled his study from end to end, watching the clock impatiently. He checked the bedroom several times over to make sure it was acceptable. He had placed numerous floating candles there, and they spread a warm low glow and a light scent of sandalwood. He was dressed in his best robes, his hair brushed to silkiness and tied back in a ponytail. He checked the table several times as well, moving the candles around and setting and resetting the silverware. He didn't want to admit to himself he was nervous, but he was. He felt like an expectant adolescent. It was silly. He was the one with all the knowledge and experience. So why was his stomach all in knots? 

He replumped the cushions on the sofa. He would take Hermione there after they ate, rather than directly to the bedroom. He wanted to go slow with her, savor the moments leading up to taking her, fan the flame of the slow burn they had both been feeling into a roaring fire before he unveiled her. It was almost eight o'clock. He straightened his robes and walked through his study into the Potions office so he could let her in. He stood there, bouncing on his toes nervously before he stopped himself with a curse. If he kept this up, he'd have to take a calming draught. Then came the light knock on the door, and he felt his stomach tighten. He counted mentally to three so she wouldn't know he'd been hovering by the door, then opened it.

Hermione stood there looking at him rather shyly. She was dressed in Slytherin colors. Gods, she looked beautiful, too beautiful for words. The Professor's black eyes slid over her. The dress accentuated every luscious curve of her body. He leveled his gaze at her face again, speechless.

Hermione drank in the sight of him. His robes were very nice, embroidered with serpents. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He looked very dashing.

They stood in the doorway, just staring at each other. Finally Hermione found her voice.

"Aren't you going to invite me in, Professor?" she asked him softly.

The Professor started as if woken up from a dream.

"Yes. Yes, Hermione, please come in," he said, stepping aside and letting her pass. She entered the office and turned to look at him.

"You look stunning, Hermione," he breathed as he looked at the beautiful witch in front of him, unable to believe how lucky he was that she felt as she did about him.

"Thank you," she replied, blushing slightly. "You look very handsome as well, Professor."

"Severus," he said softly, "Call me Severus, Hermione. No more 'Professor' in private. I want to hear you say my name."

"Severus," Hermione repeated as if hypnotized.

The sound of his given name on her lips shot straight to his loins. He was going to make her say his name over and over tonight. His nervousness left him immediately. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

"This way, my lady," Snape said, guiding her through the open wall to his study. He pulled the torch that closed the wall, then whispered a ward and a silencing spell. He then escorted Hermione to the table, pulled out her chair and helped her sit down, sliding the chair in closer.

"The table setting is lovely, Pro…Severus," Hermione said, admiring his handiwork.

"Thank you," he replied, sitting down across from her, his black eyes illuminated by the candlelight. "I planned a rather light dinner for us, nothing too heavy."

Here, Hermione blushed a bit. He didn't want her overeating. It might make her sluggish. Severus clapped his hands and a house elf appeared with a platter that contained two plates. On the plates were salad, an ample portion of blackened shrimp and a small crusty roll. It certainly was a light repast, but that was fine with Hermione. Her stomach was in knots anyway. She couldn't have eaten much. The elf placed a plate in front of each of them, then placed the platter under his arm and waited expectantly.

"It looks delicious," she commented. Snape's eyes were fixed on her as if she were an entrée. Hermione felt a little warmth between her legs at his intensity. Snape snapped out of it, looking first at the waiting elf, then at her.

"I wasn't sure what you preferred to drink with your meal. Would you like some wine?" he asked her. Hermione considered. She didn't want wine. She needed to be clearheaded.

"Would apple juice be all right?" she responded. Snape gave her a little smirk.

"Of course it would," he replied, then to the elf he said, "Bring us a pitcher of cold apple juice and two glasses."

"Yes sir. Right away sir," the elf said, winking out.

Hermione picked up her fork and ate a bit of salad. It was good.

"Would you like some salad dressing?" Snape asked her.

"No, this is fine," Hermione said, lowering her amber eyes to her plate. The hungry look in Severus' eyes was doing things to her. Anticipation was growing. The Potions Master was distinctly aware of every nuance her body language revealed. He licked his lips as his eyes rested on the curve of her throat. He imagined her eyes heavy lidded with pleasure as his mouth moved over it, tasting her soft skin. He was hardening. He popped a shrimp into his mouth and chewed.

The house elf returned with a large pitcher of apple juice and two glasses filled with never-melting ice. The creature set it on the table along with the two glasses, bowed and winked out again. Snape poured Hermione a glass, then himself. He passed the juice to her, and their fingers touched for just a moment, and a jolt shot through both of them at the contact. The tension was high indeed.

"Damn," Snape swore in a low voice as he stared at the witch.

"Did you feel it too, Severus?" Hermione asked, her eyes glowing.

"Yes," he replied, "Eat up." He tackled his food with vigor now. Hermione followed suit.

"By the way," Snape said, "I found out why the ring warmed up on your finger that night. It seems you were on the local ogre's dinner menu."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"There's an ogre on that mountain?" she asked, trembling a little. She had heard about ogres. They were worse than trolls. They were smaller, but much smarter.

"Not anymore," Snape replied, "The Guardian put him on its menu. Successfully I might add."

Hermione shuddered. The Guardian had eaten the ogre. She hadn't even known she was in danger. Snape looked at her.

"Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for the ogre," he said, his eyebrows lifting in mirth as if he were about to laugh at her.

"No," Hermione retorted, a bit of irritation in her voice. She was softhearted, but not that softhearted.

"Good," Snape replied, "Compassion is a wonderful quality, but it can be overdone. He would have turned you into a half-conscious Hermione pancake, sans the syrup."

Hermione shuddered again, to Snape's delight. He liked giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"That ring saved my life so many times," she said softly. Snape's eyes glittered.

"That's because to the ring, you are a Snape," he replied, possessiveness in his voice. "Its main purpose was to protect you."

Hermione looked at him curiously.

"But how did you know the ring would protect me, Severus?" she asked him.

"Hermione," he answered her softly, "I didn't know the Guardian would manifest for you. I knew the ring would transport you and protect you because it was my will."

Hermione processed this, then said, "Yes, but only a Snape could open the tomb. You said so yourself. Yet you sent me. I don't understand."

Snape sighed. He needed to make her understand how he felt about her, how he knew she was the one. He put his fork down and looked at her intensely.

"Hermione, you have been the object of my affections for several years. Somehow I felt that if anyone could open that tomb, it would be you. Call it instinct, or a premonition. I felt a connection with you. When I planned to kill Voldemort, it wasn't a definite plan. It was a last resort. Something I would do if I saw no better way. But I didn't want to die. Someone would have to bring me back, someone loyal and brave who wouldn't give up. I figured you into the equation because you are the most courageous, determined and compassionate person I know, witch or wizard. No one else on this earth would have done for me what you did. No one else would have taken up the challenge to go to an undisclosed place without magic and place something mysterious in a tomb because of a dead wizard's last request. But you did, just as I hoped you would and in the process I discovered you were indeed meant for me. If there was any doubt, our interludes in the dream realm dispelled them. You responded to me so sweetly, so passionately, as if we were meant to be together from the beginning of time."

Hermione's eyes were locked to Snape's, unable to look away or even move as he poured his heart out to her.

"I've watched you grow up from a child, Hermione. You aren't the kind of witch that easily gives herself to a wizard the way you gave yourself to me. If you were, you would have lost your virginity long ago. There aren't many twenty-three year old virgins, Hermione, and I am sure many young attractive wizards have approached you in your time. But it's me you want. There is something about me that makes you willing to be deflowered, to be possessed. You've already let me do things to you that I know no other wizard has done. I know you never had a man bring you to orgasm the way I did in that dream. It was something you wanted from me. Me alone."

The Professor leaned toward her now, his voice becoming thick with desire.

"And tonight…you've come to my rooms willingly, knowing what I want to do to you, what I will do to you, and you want me. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in your kiss, even smell and taste it on your skin. Not to mention you've told me how you feel…scolded me, been angry with me. Been impatient for me. You are the most arousing, exciting woman I have ever known, and I've known quite a few, Hermione. They were all experienced, all beautiful, but none of them has ever affected me like you do. You've held my heart in your hands for five long years without even knowing it. When I saw those deatheaters pursuing you, intent on defiling and killing you, murder was in my heart. I would have gladly died rather than have any of them put one hand on you, you were that precious to me. Are that precious to me."

Snape rose from his seat and walked around the table to Hermione's side and knelt, taking her hand and kissing it, his dark eyes full of emotion.

"Sending you to Mu was not an off-chance, Hermione. To me, it was destiny. We are destiny. You have always belonged to me, with me. I have no intention of ever letting you go. I love you."

Hermione's heart began to pound as she looked into Snape's eyes. He didn't need to tell her he loved her to get her into his bed, she was already willing. That was why she was here. The only reason he would possibly say such a thing was because he meant it. She had never heard him say anything he didn't mean. Ever. Hermione felt as if her entire insides had melted and was now pooling between her thighs. She pushed her plate away.

"Suddenly I'm not hungry, Severus," she said rather hoarsely.

The Potions Master understood. He pulled out her chair and helped her up, then led her to the sofa and sat down, pulling her on to his lap. He gazed at her a moment.

"You are so beautiful," he breathed. Slowly he unpinned her hair, letting it tumble down over her shoulders. He gazed at her again.

"Yessss," he hissed, kissing her mouth gently at first, capturing her lips between his own and sucking at them lightly. His mouth was so soft, so gentle, Hermione couldn't help responding, liquid fire rolling over her body as their lips connected. Snape moved his mouth to her chin, then her throat, sucking and nibbling lightly, causing Hermione to sigh in pleasure.

"That's right, Hermione. Let me give you pleasure," he whispered, moving back to her mouth and possessing it with a deep, penetrating kiss as he began to caress her back and sides, thrilling her with his touch. Her body was so sensitive to his touch, she started trembling with pleasure, clamping her thighs together to try and ease the intense tingling between them. Her hands went to his head, her fingers pulling at his hair gently, then sliding over his throat and shoulders, then down across his chest. She could feel well-defined musculature beneath his robes. He didn't have a shirt on under it.

"What are you wearing under your robes?" she breathed as Snape fell to her throat again.

"My silk boxers," he replied, kissing the hollow of her neck, then pulling down one of her dress straps with his teeth, and running his tongue over her shoulder.

"You taste exquisite, Hermione," he sighed as he shifted her so he could reach the other strap with his teeth, also sliding it down and kissing her other shoulder, before returning to her throat, and then her mouth. Hermione was panting now. His mouth and hands were feeling so good on her body that reality was fading fast. The room was beginning to fade out, and he was the only thing real in the entire world.

"Oh gods," she groaned into his mouth. "Severus…what are you doing to me?"

"Loving you," he replied, pulling her arms free of the straps and lowering her dress so both of her breasts were exposed. He leaned her back and buried his face between them, kissing and licking, then sliding his mouth across the swell of one as his hand grasped the other, fondling it gently, but insistently. He swirled his tongue around her nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue tapping and lapping at the hardened peak as he suckled her. Hermione let her head fall back in pleasure, her hands grasping his head tightly as she groaned. She was soaked between her thighs. She wanted him to hurry.

"I can't take much more of this, Severus…how long…gods. I need you," she hissed.

"You want me now, Hermione?" he asked her, his mouth around her breast, his hand rubbing her belly slowly, "There's so much more to do before I deflower you."

"I want you inside me, now," she gasped, her head snapping forward as she pulled him from her breast, half-crazed with lust. Her eyes were absolutely on fire as she gazed at him. She was in total sex mode. She had waited long enough as it was. Snape's black eyes glittered at the ferocity on her face.

"All right, my little virgin. Foreplay can wait," he growled, standing up and carrying her toward the bedroom. "You're ready for the real thing."

* * *

Snape carried the half-dressed Hermione into his candlelit bedroom and set her down in the middle of the floor. He swiftly removed her dress, kneeling as he pulled it down her body, revealing her flat belly, curved hips, smooth thighs and long legs. She stepped out of them, her amber eyes glued to his face as he looked at her knickers appreciatively. 

"Slytherin green," he said, looking up at her and arching an eyebrow. Hermione was so overcome with need that she couldn't reply and simply looked down at him, her eyes smoldering. Snape hooked his pale fingers on either side of the waistband, and drew her knickers down, his black eyes focused on her bush. It was neatly trimmed again. He smirked before he rose facing her, stepping back and admiring her body.

"You are perfect," he breathed as he began to unbutton his robes. Hermione's eyes were locked to his hands as they flew down the front of his garment, and the pale skin beneath was slowly revealed. She unconsciously licked her lips when he slipped his robes off and she saw his lean, muscular body for the first time. Her eyes dropped downward, looking at the huge tent in his silk boxers.

"Take them off," she said softly, her eyes fixed on his loins. "I want to see all of you, Severus."

The Potions Master obliged her, lowering his boxers and stepping out of them.

"Damn," Hermione breathed as she looked at his large, thick tool. It was standing at full attention and pointing directly at her. Snape looked down at his organ, then back at Hermione, who couldn't seem to take her eyes off it.

"Are you scared, Hermione?" he asked her softly.

She looked up at him.

"No, not scared. Maybe a little apprehensive," she replied, her voice low.

He opened his arms and she stepped into them, feeling his hardness press up against her belly. Snape embraced her gently, stroking her hair as he felt her trembling against him. He kissed her temple.

"Trust me, Hermione," he breathed before lowering his head and kissing her. He began to back her towards the bed, keeping his mouth locked to hers, exploring her heat, his tongue entwining around hers. Her mouth was so hot, so accepting. He stopped when he felt her hit the edge of the bed. He stopped kissing her and his black eyes smoldered down at her.

"You don't know how many times I've dreamed of having you like this, Hermione," he breathed, "Get into the bed, sweet."

Hermione climbed into the four-poster, followed closely by Snape. She lay down on her back, looking up at him. The Professor's eyes swept down her body, and he lay down beside her, propping himself up on his elbow, gazing into her face. He began to caress her breasts with his other hand, then slid it down her belly then through her pubic hair. Hermione shuddered.

"Part your thighs for me," he whispered, his hand playing in the soft hair of her sex.

Hermione did, and buckled as the Professor's fingers slid into her moist folds. She cried out with pleasure as Snape worked his fingers back and forth against her, massaging her nub and making her rotate her hips deliciously.

"You are so sexy, Hermione. You make me want to come just watching you," he hissed.

"Please do me, Severus," she whimpered, biting her lip as he continued to play in her sex.

Gods, he wanted to hear her say that so many times over the past five years. Now here she was, beautiful, naked and begging for him. Snape removed his hand from between her legs and licked his fingers, her amber eyes watching him. Then he rolled on top of her, his length resting between her thighs. She groaned as she felt his hardness pressing against her, so close to the place she needed him to be. She arched her body upward so his organ pressed against her harder.

"You want to feel me?" he whispered. He lowered his head and kissed her, grinding against her in small tight circles before sliding back and forth over her, driving her wild with the contact, her hips instinctively pumping against him.

Snape pulled his mouth away from hers, continuing to work his body against her as he studied her face. She was moaning, her eyes closed, her body rocking against his.

"You know what to do, don't you Hermione? Nature is taking over. You feel so good like this. Slipping inside your tight, hot body is going to be heaven…for both of us," he said to her increasing his speed as he rubbed his organ over her mound. "Open your beautiful eyes, Hermione. I want to see your fire when I take you."

Hermione's eyes flew open and looked up at Snape pleadingly as he mercilessly rubbed himself over her, arousing her to a frenzy.

"Gods, please Severus…you're torturing me. I need you," she cried out.

Snape kissed her tenderly as he worked himself against her body. He drew back from her mouth again, and said in a silky voice, "I'm not trying to torture you, Hermione. I am savoring your desire for me. You're a lovely virgin, begging me to deflower you. It's the sweetest thing I've ever heard, like a siren's song, drawing me in. I want to remember every beautiful, needful word you say to me. I want to hear you sing until I can't stand it anymore. Then, I will bury myself deep inside you and claim you as my own, Hermione."

He dropped his head and kissed her deeply again, possessing her mouth, his hands caressing her body tenderly, driving her to a higher state of need. His entire length was bathed in her juices, the air full of the scent of her arousal. He heard her cries of need, felt them vibrate into his mouth as his tongue tangled with hers over and over. A fire was burning deliciously in his loins as he held back his desire, tormenting himself as well as the witch beneath him, rolling his thickness in her wetness, hissing at the heat, anticipating her tight sleeve accepting his penetration, wrapping around his length, caressing him intimately. He wanted her in such a state that the pain of her deflowerment would be quick, her need for him overpowering it. He moved to her throat, suckling on her soft skin as she pleaded with him to take her.

"Not yet…not yet sweet, you aren't there yet," he breathed, "Keep telling me how much you need me." Hermione's arms up to this point had been wrapped around his neck. Her desperation goading her, she slid her hands over his back, feeling the ridges of the scars left from the beatings he received under Voldemort, then continuing downward, grasping at his muscled buttocks as they flexed against her. The Potions Master groaned as she pulled at him insistently, her hands sliding over the backs of his thighs, then sweeping up again.

"Your body is so strong," she whispered, trying her best to find the words that would make him break and drive into her. "I want to feel your strength, Severus. I want you to possess all of me, make me yours, claim me Severus. I've saved myself twenty-three years for you. I took on that mountain for you. You say you love me. Then show me you love me! Shag me, you bastard!"

Severus groaned against her throat and jerked against her. She had almost made him come. He looked down at her.

"I do love you, Hermione. With everything I am," he panted down at her. He was perspiring now. "I just want…I just want…" his voice faltered, his black eyes full of emotion as he looked down into her heat-filled eyes.

"You want to hear me say it…say I love you too," she gasped up at him.

"Yessss," he hissed.

"I do. Otherwise I wouldn't want you like this," she said.

"Say it, Hermione. Say you love me, damn it," Snape growled at her. "I know you do. I want the words."

He moved against her almost violently now.

"I love you, Severus," she said softly.

"Yesss," he hissed, reaching down between their bodies and positioning himself against her entrance. Without a warning, the Potions Master thrust sharply into her, his thick organ breaking her hymen and sliding deep into her hot, wet body. Hermione let out a short shriek as his length slid into her, filling her completely, then she thrust her hips upward, crying out in pleasure at his penetration.

"Oh yes, Severus…yes baby," Hermione cried, the muggle in her coming out as the wizard claimed her body. She had never felt anything so good.

Snape was speechless for a moment as he throbbed inside her, deeply embedded in her beautiful body.

"Now you're mine," he breathed as he pulled back and thrust his full length into her again, growling as he plunged into her up to his balls. He began to ride her body, giving her long, deep strokes, feeling her legs wrap around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back as he angled his strokes and rolled his pelvis against her. He locked his mouth to hers and took her possessively, tenderly, taking all she had to give him with restraint, wanting it to be good for her. He would take care of his more ardent needs later. The first time, was her time.

And he was good to Hermione. His soft tongue ravaging her mouth contrasted deliciously with his hardness inside her. His rigid, hungry length stroking in and out of her body after all her waiting and the wanting was pure bliss. Snape was soothing the ache, replacing it with pleasure as he moved fluidly against her, his lean, pale body rippling and flowing on top of hers as he drove into the witch, jerking her gently as he hit bottom over and over. Hermione found if she tilted her hips on his downstroke her pleasure intensified, and he gasped as she applied her newfound knowledge, tightening her sleeve around him as he withdrew, giving him more friction, more contact as he re-entered her repeatedly

Snape pulled his mouth away and looked down at her, his dark eyes blazing.

"Shit, Hermione," the wizard breathed as he increased his power, "I want more of you, witch."

"Oh yes, Severus! Yes!" Hermione groaned arching into his stroke as he plunged deeper inside her, his penetration becoming more intense, more demanding. The more she gave Snape, the more he wanted. She was so beautiful, so passionate, so willing to take him deeper. His slid his hand along her smooth thigh as he buried himself in her wetness

"You want it harder? Faster?" he asked, slipping both his large, pale hands under her buttocks so he could control the movements of her hips and pulling her into his stroke, rotating her hips around him and growling with pleasure as she relinquished control to him, her cries becoming louder. Snape sped up, pumping into her faster as he gripped her buttocks, his face pressed tight against her shoulder, whispering endearments and obscenities into her ear as she gasped his name over and over, driving him into a frenzy of possession.

Lost in passion for Hermione, Snape rolled them both over so she was on top, her legs straddling him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her in place, never missing a stroke as he continued to possess her, burying himself into her tightness, his pale face contorting with lust, pleasure and fulfillment. Now it was Hermione's turn to look down into the face of her lover, her heart swelling at its changing expressions as Snape slaked his need for her. Suddenly the Potions Master stopped thrusting into her, and remained still, his swollen organ throbbing and pulsing inside her, his black eyes fixed on her expectantly.

"More,' she breathed, pulling her body up and pushing down on him, sliding his tool in and out of her body instinctively.

"Yes, that's it Hermione," Snape groaned up at her, "It's your turn to take me,"

Hermione began to thrust herself over his erection, controlling the depth and speed of his penetration. Snape loved this, watching her face as she received him, drinking in the emotions that flickered across her features, her hair falling around her face. He brushed it aside so he could see her clearly.

"Sit up," he hissed, "Ride me."

Hermione lifted herself and leaned back until she was sitting astride him, his organ buried deep inside her. She began to rise and fall on her knees, slipping over his thickness, moaning at the luscious sensation of him parting her soft inner flesh. Snape gripped her waist tightly, lifting her and pulling her back down, helping her to ride him, his black eyes focusing first where their bodies connected, watching her slide over his glistening shaft repeatedly, before they shifted to her bouncing breasts. He grasped one with his pale hand, fondling it and pulling her nipple as his eyes shifted to her face. He had never seen any woman look as lovely as Hermione did now, her moist lips parted in abandon, her amber eyes mere slits as she pierced herself with his member

"You are the most beautiful woman on earth," Snape breathed up at her, thrusting upward as she bore down on him. Hermione opened her eyes fully and looked down at him tenderly, like she had done at the inn, her eyes shining. Snape's heart swelled. He saw love in her eyes, he was certain of it.

"Hermione," he breathed, stopping her and lifting her off him. He slid from under her, not letting her lie down but placing her on her hands and knees and moving behind her, fitting himself between her legs and caressing her back before gripping her waist and entering her from behind in one long, deep stroke, his pelvis resting against her bum. She cried out as he penetrated her, her juices squishing around him.

"Beautiful," he breathed again as he started stroking her hard, ramming into Hermione hungrily, determined to make her orgasm.

"Severus!" she cried out brokenly as he pummeled her, his loins slapping against her quickly in a steady rhythm.

"I'm here, love," he hissed, plunging into her over and over, feeling her shuddering around him. "Let go. Feel me. Feel how much I love you and want you, Hermione," he said, his ardor and stroke increasing…he was losing himself in her.

Hermione was beginning to shriek as her tore into her, gripping her shoulders now, pulling her into him, grunting at the end of every powerful stroke. He was so strong, so hungry…moving in and out of her so hard and fast it was one huge blur of intense pleasure, and something was growing deep inside her, something that needed this kind of possession, and she shrieked his name as she felt herself tightening inside, intense pleasure flowing through her body and every limb, her fingers and toes coiling inward as she approached the pinnacle, Snape pounding into her, driving her closer to release.

"Oh my gods!" she shrieked, "Severus!"

He felt her going over the edge and wrapping his arm around her waist, he leaned over her back and hunched into her frantically, giving her every bit of him he could, pushing her completely into the abyss as she screamed his name and climaxed, her come rolling over him as she clamped down, squeezing his length inside her tightly, her core sucking at him. Snape desperately pressed his hand to the small of her back and barely managed to groan the contraceptive incantation before he released deep inside her hot body with a guttural cry, his balls tightening as his seed tore through him, spouting in great pulsing jets, filling her cavity to overflowing with creamy come. Snape held himself against her quaking body firmly until he emptied every drop of sperm inside her, completing his claim on the Gryffindor witch.

He kissed Hermione's back and shoulders tenderly as he loosened his grip on her waist, and gently moved her hair aside so he could press his lips to her throat, before falling to the side, dragging her down against him, still buried inside her, unwilling to withdraw, to break the connection. But she broke it when she turned in his arms to face him, her amber eyes fixed on his face, her breathing still fast, her heart still pounding in her chest. Snape looked at her a moment, then kissed her with all the passion and emotion he could muster, taking her already labored breath away and making her gasp against his mouth before she managed to pull away.

"I'm going to pass out if you keep kissing me like that," she chided him softly.

"As long as you remain naked and accessible, I'll have no complaints if you do," he replied, rubbing his big nose against hers. She smiled at him and his chest tightened.

"So, how do you like sex?" he asked her silkily, his black eyes glittering.

"It's incredible," she said, her eyes shining up at him.

Snape could have sat up in the bed and crowed. Instead he said, "You're incredible. When will you marry me?"

Hermione looked at him, startled.

"Severus…it's too soon to ask me something like that," she whispered.

"No it's not," he replied, "We both know you are going to marry me. I want you in my chambers every night. Openly. As soon as possible."

"Severus…" Hermione began.

"I swear Hermione, I will fuck an acceptance out of you if I have to," Snape growled.

Hermione burst out laughing.

"That's a horrible thing to say, Severus. Much less do," she chuckled, "An acceptance like that would be given under duress."

"Actually, I don't care what conditions it's given under, my sweet. All that matters to me is that you accept me as your husband," he said soberly, his black eyes meeting hers earnestly.

"Severus, I have no one to compare you to as a lover, but you must think you're pretty damn good to expect me to say I'll marry you after one shag," Hermione said, her eyes twinkling.

The Potions Master looked at her consideringly.

"So how many shags will it take to convince you?" he asked her, shifting a little closer as he started to swell again. He made sure to rest it against Hermione's thigh as it pulsed back to life. "Two? Ten? Fifty? If you don't marry me after fifty shags, Hermione, I'm going to run off with you like a caveman."

Hermione laughed again as Snape studied her. He pressed his erection hard against her thigh and she stopped laughing.

"I thought wizards needed time to recover," she said, frowning slightly.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her.

"We do. But the amount of time varies. In my case, I think I have quite a bit of shagging to do if I'm to get you to agree to be my wife anytime soon. It's best I get started," he said, rolling on top of her quickly, pinning her arms down.

Snape looked down at Hermione, his eyes blazing, and brought her hands together over her head, locking her wrists together with one hand, then reaching between their bodies with the other and grasping his erection. He rubbed the head up and down between her soft, folds, over her core, lubricating it in their mixed juices, making Hermione squeal and arch up against him, her eyes going hot.

"I think you'll find me quite persuasive," he breathed.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the study of her mansion doing some spell research when she heard a thunder clap, followed closely by another, then another. She scowled and slipped a marker into the book, stood up and threw open the study door, stalking into the hallway and down towards the main entrance. She looked around, an eyebrow arched. Then she put her hands on her hips. 

"All right you three, I heard you. Get out here now! I'm not kidding," she said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw three shimmers pressed against the far wall, attempting to slip up the hallway.

"Severus, Alphonse, Jeremiah, I see you over there," she said, tapping her foot. "Get over here right now, young men."

Three black-haired, amber-eyed boys suddenly appeared. They were all dressed in blue jeans and t-shirts and splattered with mud. Their heads hung dejectedly as they approached their mother slowly. They lined up in front of her.

Hermione looked at them, frowning.

"Now what have I told you about apparating?" she asked them.

"That we're not supposed to do it," all three boys responded in unison.

"And why aren't you supposed to do it?" she asked them.

"Because we're too young and we might splinch," they said, again in unison. All three of their answers had a singsong quality. They had obviously recited this answer many times over the span of their eight years.

"That's right," Hermione said.

"But Mum," Severus said, his amber eyes looking at her levelly. "We've been apparating since we were five. We've never splinched. Dad said it's because it's in our blood."

"Your father also told you not to apparate either," Hermione said sternly.

"Actually, he told us not to get caught apparating," Alphonse said to Jeremiah in a low, somewhat silky voice, nudging him and smirking. Hermione heard him and sighed. Yes, that sounded exactly like something Severus would say. Very Slytherin advice to his sons.

"And what happened to your clothes?" Hermione asked them, eyeing the mud spatters and pulling out her wand.

"We were digging up some plants to dry out," Jeremiah said, brushing at the spots of dirt on his trousers.

"Yeah, to add to our stores," Alphonse said as Hermione scourgified the three of them. Her eyebrows went up.

"Stores?" she asked.

"Yes, Mum. We have our own Potions stores, like Dad's," Severus said proudly.

Hermione looked at them suspiciously.

"And just where is this Potions stores of yours located?" she asked, slightly miffed she wasn't aware of this.

"Downstairs in the cupboard, next to Dad's storeroom. He knows," Jeremiah said rather stubbornly.

Hermione scowled. She was going to talk to her husband when he came home this evening.

"Exactly what kind of plants were you digging up?" Hermione asked the triplets.

The boys looked at each other, none of them wanting to answer her. Hermione gave them her best "I'm not fooling around" look, and they folded.

"Mandrakes," all three said at once.

"What! Are you three out of your minds! You can be killed harvesting mandrakes! Their screams are lethal! What were you thinking?" Hermione yelled at them, making them wince.

"Mum, we're not that stupid. We cast a silencing spell on them before we pull them up. They only scream a couple of minutes," Severus said. "Dad told us how to do it."

Hermione was going to be a widow. And soon.

Being the only Gryffindor in a house full of prospective Slytherins was really a pain sometimes. Severus was grooming the boys in all the Slytherin ways of thinking. They were smart, secretive and resourceful. Anytime they got in trouble, they invoked the name of their father as if he were a deity of protection.

"I don't care what your father told you. You are all officially on lockdown. Now, up to your rooms and hit the books. I want a foot of parchment on the dangers of harvesting Mandrake Root and another two feet on the dangers of Apparition. Upstairs right now, march," Hermione said pointing to the stairwell.

The boys all skulked off, their hands deep in their pockets.

"I've written so many parchments on the dangers of apparition I can write one word for word by heart," Jeremiah said as they mounted the stairs, Hermione glaring after them.

"You should do what I do," Severus said, brushing his silky black hair out of his eyes, " I save the old ones and just give them to Mum over and over again. I just don't date them."

"Pretty sharp, Severus," Alphonse said, clearly impressed, arching an eyebrow at his brother speculatively.

"I know," Severus said, grinning slightly. All three boys turned on the landing, and checked to see if Hermione was still watching them. She was. They'd escape their rooms later. There were several more mandrakes to collect before they had their quota.

* * *

Hermione was waiting in the study when Severus apparated home from Hogwarts that evening. He knew immediately she was on the warpath when he kissed her hello, and she accepted the kiss stoically, her lips held so stiffly they felt as if they were made of wood. The Potions Master scoured his brain, trying to figure out what in the world he had done now, and how he was going to placate her. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a small drink, then carried it to the armchair and sat down. He took a sip of it, then looked up at his wife. After nine years of marriage and three sons, she was still beautiful, still desirable to him. Especially when her amber eyes flashed at him the way they were now. Although he definitely preferred them flashing at him when he was on top of her. 

Hermione walked over and stood in front of her husband.

"Your sons were harvesting mandrake root today," she said heatedly.

Severus looked up at her. He didn't look shocked.

"Did they get a good yield?" he asked her. That was not the right response.

"I don't know if they got a good yield, Severus. The point is that harvesting Mandrake Root is dangerous," she said.

Severus arched an eyebrow at her.

"So how many sons did we lose?" he asked her, taking another sip from his glass, his black eyes sweeping over her as she stood in front of him with her arms folded. She was dressed in a wife beater and sweatpants. She must have been working out before he arrived. She'd be good and limber.

"We didn't lose any sons. That's not the point," she seethed at him.

"So I can assume they safely harvested the roots then?" he asked his wife, his black eyes meeting hers.

Hermione faltered. "Yes, they did," Hermione replied, still angry, "and they said you told them how to do it." Accusation was in her eyes.

Severus sighed.

"Hermione, my sons dig up all kinds of plants. It only made sense to teach them how to identify a mandrake plant, and how to treat it. It was better to tell them, than to let them run across one unprepared. Our sons are not idiots. They have you for a mother," he said. "As long as they know how to harvest the plants, you shouldn't be concerned. I would think you would be more concerned if they didn't know."

Hermione looked at him. Sometimes she hated his logic. Well, he pretty much blew that one out of the water. Ok, one issue down, one to go.

"And they are apparating again," she said, "when I expressly told them not to."

"Did you catch them at it?" Severus asked her, finishing his drink.

"No, but I heard them. Three thunderclaps in quick succession," she replied.

"Good enough. Did you punish them for it?" he asked her.

"Yes," Hermione said, "I always punish them for it. But they don't stop. They don't listen. I want you to talk to them."

Severus looked at her.

"I can talk to them, Hermione, but you have to remember, they are half Lemurian. Trying to keep a Lemurian child from apparating is tantamount to trying to stop a dragon from breathing fire. It's in their blood. Lemurians don't splinch," he said softly, looking up at his angry wife. He felt like doing her.

"But it's against the law, Severus," Hermione said plaintively. "We can get in trouble for it if it's found out. They have to be seventeen to apparate. You know the law."

"They only apparate on our private property, Hermione. They know better than to do it in public. What happens in the privacy of our home is no one's business," he replied, scowling a little. Hermione could be such a stickler sometimes.

"But still Severus, they are British citizens. They have to respect our laws," she said.

Severus sighed.

"Very well, Hermione. I will talk to them," he said eyeing her.

"Good. And this time no Slytherin advice about not getting caught," she said sharply.

Severus smirked.

"As you wish, wife," he replied.

"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said, leaning down to kiss the dark wizard on his cheek. She stood up and started for the study door.

"Wait, Hermione. Where are you going?" he asked her.

"To bed," she replied, looking over her shoulder at him.

Severus stood up and walked over to his wife. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close against him.

"I was hoping you might keep me company for a while. The boys are asleep, are they not?" he said silkily, pressing his lips against her temple and looking down at her, a familiar gleam in his black eyes.

"How much company?" she asked him, knowing what that gleam meant. Her husband was still sexy as hell. "Quick company? Or a long visit?" She felt him hardening against her belly, and became instantly aroused. Severus was a good lover, no matter what kind of "company" they kept.

Hermione had never wanted any other wizard since the night he deflowered her long ago. Albus married them three months later in a small ceremony on the school grounds. The couple was married for a year before Hermione became pregnant. She had been huge. When she delivered, Severus went from joy to amazement then to shock as she birthed three sons in succession. Despite the fact that Hermione herself was an only child, it seemed triplets ran in her family.

They purchased a mansion in the Shropshire area and Hermione began a small custom Spells business that really took off. Severus was still employed at Hogwarts, while he marketed his own potions and both had a nice amount of residuals coming in each month. Neither had to work, but they both enjoyed it. They were setting a good example for their sons as well. Severus, Alphonse and Jeremiah's powers began to manifest at three years of age, the first manifestation being floating house elves. The boys had levitated their babysitters and flown them around the mansion halls as if they were elf-shaped balloons.

Hermione had her hands full trying to teach the boys not to use their powers. She got them under relative control by the age of five. Of course, they still used magic, but did so quite sneakily, in the Slytherin fashion, fully supported by their father. Severus had grown up the same way, and disciplined them properly, teaching them to hide their gifts just as he had.

Severus brought his hands to Hermione's breasts and began to fondle them. He knew she loved that.

She sighed as he said, "Quick or lengthy, I don't mind…as long as we have some kind of visit, wife," and dropped his head to her throat sucking on it gently as he continued caressing her breasts, massaging their fullness and feeling her nipples harden beneath his palms. Hermione began to unbutton his robes. She was an expert at it now, able to undo the fastenings with dispatch. Her hands flew down his robes, pulling them up as she went until it was completely open. He wore his dress shirt and black pants beneath it. Severus shrugged the robe off his shoulders and backed Hermione up against the back of the armchair, leaning her back, pulling up her shirt and latching onto her breasts hungrily with his mouth as he pulled at the string that tied her sweatpants. He was going for the hot and heavy quickie, his breathing becoming harsh as he yanked her sweats down roughly, then working at the fastenings of his trousers, opening them and pulling out his swollen organ. He lifted her legs up over his arms, letting the armchair support her body, pulled her knickers aside and thrust himself inside her hard, making her gasp at the ardor of his penetration.

"Yesss," Severus hissed, staring down at her as he started stroking her hard, jerking his wife over the back of the chair rhythmically as he plunged into her, his hips pistoning between her thighs, his eyes locked to hers as she gasped and moaned.

"I love taking you," he growled, sliding through her wetness deliciously, wrapped in the soft inner folds. "Especially when you greet me pissed off after I've had a hard day. Now I'm having a harder one, Hermione. Harder and better. Can you feel it, wife?" He slammed into her making her cry out.

"You still love me?" he hissed, driving into her.

"Yes, Severus," she groaned.

"You'd better…because I'll never stop loving you," he panted, bending over her and pouring on the power. Hermione started shrieking.

* * *

Upstairs on the landing, three faces pressed against the polished wooden dowels of the banister, listening to their mother's cries of passion coming from the study. 

"They're at it again," Severus said to his brothers, a smirk on his face.

"They're always at it," Jeremiah said, rolling his amber eyes toward the ceiling.

"I used to think Dad was beating her up when I heard her screaming," Alphonse said. "Good thing we found that book that explained what they were doing all the time. I was worried."

"He is beating her up…kind of," Severus said, his amber eyes shifting toward the study door, "but she likes it."

"Think we'll get a sister out of this one?" Jeremiah asked his brothers.

"Well, if we mixed the fertility potion right, it should take. I put in just the right amount of Mandrake Root this time, and been dosing her morning orange juice every day for the past two weeks. Let's just keep our fingers crossed," Alphonse responded.

The boys listened as their mother let out a howl, followed closely by their father's hoarse shout.

"Dad sure sounds funny at the end," Severus commented, scowling a bit

"So does Mum," Jeremiah observed, "We better get out of here. Mum will be coming out looking all starry-eyed. She'd die if she knew we heard them."

"I'm going to tell her one day, when I'm grown up," Severus said, grinning evilly.

His brothers shook their heads at him.

"You're really twisted, Severus," Alphonse said at they walked back toward their bedrooms.

"I know," Severus smirked as they headed for bed.

* * *

Severus lowered his wife's legs weakly, resting his body against hers as he panted. He pulled Hermione forward and planted a kiss on her lips. Both were covered in perspiration. 

"Damn, that was good," he breathed at her.

"It's always good with you, Severus," Hermione replied, her amber eyes still glowing with passion.

He smiled at her.

"Gods, I love you, Hermione," he said, kissing her again. Not only was she a good wife, a good mother and a good lover…she was wonderful for his ego.

"I know," she smirked at him.

* * *

The three boys sat outside the infirmary, kicking their legs absently, bored to tears with waiting. 

"What's taking so long? She's been in there for hours," Jeremiah hissed, plucking at his shirt.

"These things can't be rushed," Alphonse said wisely.

Severus punched him in the shoulder.

"How do you know?" he asked.

Alphonse looked at Severus reproachfully. "Because I researched it, that's how."

Severus snorted. "You're as bad as Mum is," he griped.

Suddenly the door to the infirmary opened, and their father walked out. He looked like he had been in a fight. His eyes were all red, and his hair was stuck to his head with perspiration. He looked a little gray too.

"I'll never get used to that," he muttered, then he looked at his sons.

"Well boys, you have a new baby sister. Her name is Damascus, and she's beautiful. She has your mother's hair and it looks like she will have my eyes. Thankfully, once again my nose has not been passed on to my progeny," he said, smiling at his sons as they high-fived each other.

"That's really great Dad!" the boys said, jumping up out of their seats.

"When can we see her?" Severus asked excitedly.

"Now," their father replied, "but you have to be quiet. Your mother is very tired."

All three boys nodded and followed their father in. They walked through the empty infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was standing by Hermione's bedside, smiling down at the witch and the bundle she held in her arms.

"She's absolutely beautiful, Hermione," the healer gushed.

"She is, isn't she?" Hermione replied, looking at her newborn daughter. Damascus sneezed.

"Hi Mum," three voices piped. Hermione looked up and her eyes softened as she drank in the sight of her boys.

"Hi boys," she responded, "Come see your new sister." She held the baby out so they could take a good look at her.

"She's a lot more wrinkly than I expected," Alphonse said, looking at the newborn critically before Severus elbowed him in the ribs.

"She looks like she's supposed to look," he hissed at his brother, then looked at his baby sister, softness in his eyes. "Hi Damascus, I'm your big brother Severus. You're going to have a great time with me."

"He's one of your big brothers," Jeremiah cut in, "You have three, and all of us will look out for you."

The baby gurgled.

"She likes me!" Jeremiah said joyfully.

"She was just making baby noises. She doesn't like anybody but Mum right now. She has the milk," Alphonse said. "She won't start liking us until she's like three months old and can tell differences and stuff."

"But we all look alike. How will she be able to tell the difference?" Jeremiah said.

"Don't be stupid. We don't act alike. She'll be able to tell. She's bound to be smart. She looks just like Mum. She's probably is intelligent like her too," Severus said, staring at his sister with a smile on her face.

Jeremiah studied the baby.

"She's going to boss us around, just like Mum does Dad," he said.

"Mum doesn't boss Dad around. He just lets her think she does to keep the peace," Severus said, then covered his mouth as he realized his mother heard him. Hermione raised her eyebrows at her son, then smiled.

"Dad does what Mum wants because he loves her," Alphonse said sagely, "and if he didn't, she probably wouldn't let him…"

He never got a chance to finish the sentence because two sets of pointy elbows hit him in the ribs.

Hermione and Severus looked at each other over the boys' heads, Hermione blushing a little and Severus' eyes looking a little hot. She'd never realized just how much her boys knew about her and Severus' private relationship. They needed to make sure to use the silencing spell whenever they had sex from now on. She looked down at her daughter.

Damascus had been quite a surprise. Hermione was taking precautions. She didn't know what went wrong. But Severus had been delighted she was pregnant again. He was a bit relieved when she didn't have another set of triplets however.

"All right boys," he said, "Time to let your mother rest. She'll be home tomorrow," he said.

The boys each leaned carefully over the baby and kissed Hermione goodbye, then followed their father out into the hallway. He would take them home and return to the infirmary. As they walked through the halls of Hogwarts, Severus looked down at them, his eyebrow arched.

"Boys, is there something you need to tell me?" he asked them. They looked up at him, perplexed.

"About your baby sister?" the Potions Master added, his black eyes glittering.

The three boys swallowed. Dad knew.

"Um…well. We sort of helped her along," Severus admitted.

"With a fertility potion using Mandrake Root," his father replied.

"Yes," all three boys said in unison.

"How did you know?" Jeremiah asked him, curious. They had been so careful.

"I took a sip of your mother's orange juice one morning. Her sense of taste is not acute as mine. I recognized the potion immediately. You brewed it yourselves?" he asked them, studying the boys thoughtfully.

"Yes sir," they answered. What was he going to do to them?

"Quite an accomplishment for eight year olds. A very Slytherin act as well. I take it you wanted a baby sister, because of how you brewed it." Snape said.

The boys nodded. Young Severus looked up at him.

"If you knew we were spiking Mum's orange juice, why didn't you say anything?" he asked his father.

Severus stopped walking and lifted an eyebrow at his sons.

"Well, in this case your desire coincided with mine. You see, I wanted a daughter as well," he said, giving them a small conspiratorial grin.

"We see," they replied in unison, smirking back at him.

"Are you going to tell Mum?" Jeremiah asked him, his amber eyes worried.

"No," Severus replied, "And if you are wise, boys, you won't tell her either. At least not until your sister is full grown and you live elsewhere."

The boys nodded, understanding completely. Their mother would kill them, or at least hex them. She'd been known to do that from time to time.

Severus began walking again, his hands clasped behind his back as he strode toward the main doors, his sons beside him. The boys also clasped their hands behind their backs, looking thoughtful.

All four Snapes strode out of Hogwarts, and across the grounds, headed for home and whatever new adventures life held in store for them.

THE END

* * *

A/N: And that is the end of "The Ring" I hope you enjoyed it. I know I skipped ahead a few years, but that's where the keyboard led me. The young Snape triplets are something else, aren't they? Lol. Maybe one day I will write about them. Please leave a final review. 


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